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Mahabharata

Page 18

by Carole Satyamurti


  quietly to Yudhishthira’s concerns.

  “My brothers, friends, all my best advisers

  tell me I should perform the Rajasuya,

  but I’m still hesitant; I doubt my motives—

  and theirs. Why would I make this bold attempt?

  To release my father? To give Arjuna

  and Bhima a chance to fully test themselves

  in the clash of battle? Or would it be

  just for the sake of personal ambition?

  Krishna, you are my wisest counsellor;

  your view will be untainted by self-interest.

  Help me to clear my mind of turbulence

  so I can act.”

  Krishna embraced his cousin.

  “Yudhishthira, to become supreme sovereign

  of Bharatavarsha is the highest calling

  for any kshatriya. One who attempts it

  must have powerful allies to depend on,

  and must have many qualities of heart

  and mind, as well as military strength.

  You have those qualities and, like your brothers,

  I would be overjoyed to see you, one day,

  undertake the Rajasuya rite.

  “But there are obstacles. Another king

  aspires to be the universal sovereign.

  He is my old enemy, Jarasandha

  of Magadha. He will never bow to you—

  he’s proud, he is ambitious; above all,

  he knows I am your friend. Furthermore

  he has many mighty allies. While he lives

  your path to the imperial throne is blocked.

  “He has conquered strong and prosperous kingdoms

  and captured many royal warriors.

  My informants tell me he has imprisoned

  eighty-six kshatriya princes in his dungeons.

  When he has one hundred, he intends

  to bring them out, bind them and slaughter them

  offering them as sacrifice to Shiva.

  If you free them, you will have their loyalty.

  But to do that, you must kill Jarasandha,

  otherwise, he will mobilize his allies,

  including Duryodhana, to attack you.

  Without him, they won’t dare, however bitter

  their hatred for the Pandavas.”

  Yudhishthira

  was still enmeshed in doubt. But Arjuna cried,

  “We are kshatriyas! It is our dharma

  to win glory on the field of battle,

  and it is equally kshatriya dharma

  to offer our protection to the oppressed.

  I have the peerless bow Gandiva, the quivers

  that never empty, the wind-swift chariot.

  And right is on our side—surely Shiva

  does not sanction human sacrifice.

  Besides, in Krishna’s view, Yudhishthira

  should perform the Rajasuya. I propose

  that we set out for Magadha at once!”

  Then Bhima said, “The three of us should go—

  Arjuna, whose skill is without equal,

  Krishna, whose judgment is that of God himself,

  and I, whose strength is second to no man’s.”

  “Ah!” cried Yudhishthira, “you two are my eyes

  and Krishna my mind—what if I should lose you?”

  “Yudhishthira,” said Krishna with a smile,

  “time flows on, day by day, and waits for no one.

  We do not know when we will meet our death.

  To hesitate, to turn away from dharma,

  never prolongs life. But it costs a man

  his honor—and that loss is worse than death.

  Do not divide your mind against itself

  through doubt and paralyzing cogitation.

  The great man acts, as time demands of him.”

  It was agreed that Bhima, Arjuna

  and Krishna would go at once to Magadha

  and challenge Jarasandha to single combat.

  “The man is full of pride in his own strength,”

  said Krishna, “so he will choose to pit himself

  against Bhima—who is easily his match.”

  However, Krishna knew how difficult

  it would be to kill him. Jarasandha

  had been born in two halves, from two mothers.

  The female demon Jara had made him whole,

  hence his name, and Shiva had blessed him,

  given him superhuman strength, and foretold

  that he would only die when an opponent

  tore him apart again.

  The Pandavas

  and Krishna traveled light, disguised as brahmins,

  and arrived at Jarasandha’s city.

  It was large and beautifully laid out

  with wide streets, lovely parks and watercourses.

  All around it stretched lush pastureland

  well stocked with plump and healthy herds of cattle.

  They made their way into the king’s palace,

  entering unannounced, by a back-door route

  for, in view of their murderous intentions,

  it would not be right to receive the welcome

  due to brahmins. Then they sought an audience

  with Jarasandha. The king was astonished

  when he realized who these “brahmins” were.

  “Understand,” said Krishna, “we are here

  to rescue all those blameless kshatriyas

  whom you have wickedly incarcerated

  in your dungeons. Either you let them go

  or we will force you.”

  “What are you thinking of,”

  said Jarasandha, “talking such brainless nonsense?

  I have never offended you. I have done

  nothing wrong—those kings I have imprisoned

  were all captured fairly by me, in battle.

  Therefore, their lives are now at my disposal.

  That is kshatriya dharma—how could I now

  quietly let them go when I have vowed

  to sacrifice them, in honor of the god?”

  “Your view of kshatriya dharma is perverted,”

  replied Krishna. “How can you propose

  to slaughter brave men as though they were beasts?

  It is obscene. We therefore challenge you.

  Which of us three do you choose to fight?

  Which of us will send you to Yama’s realm?”

  “Deluded Yadava!” growled Jarasandha.

  “I’ll take on Bhima—let him fight with me.”

  Then each warrior put on his battle garments

  and, shouting insults, the two massive men

  set to, seizing each other with bare hands.

  Sweat poured off them as they roared and grunted,

  each pounding the other with rock-like fists.

  Their cries struck dread into all who heard them.

  They grappled, clutched, pulled out each other’s hair,

  strangled, twisted, kicked. But they were matched

  exactly, so the fight went on for day

  after day, night after night, until

  on the fourteenth day, Jarasandha

  was exhausted. The chivalrous way forward

  would have been to allow him time to rest

  and then resume the fight. But Krishna said

  meaningfully to Bhima, “Son of the Wind,

  a tired opponent should not be attacked

  or he may even die.” Bhima resolved

  to muster every effort there and then

  to finish Jarasandha. He grabbed his ankles

  and whirled him in the air a hundred times.

  Then he placed the helpless king across his knee

  and broke him in two. Jarasandha was dead.

  His son succeeded him, and pledged loyalty

  to King Yudhishthira. The royal captives

  were released from their prison underground;

  all swore allegiance to the Dharma K
ing.

  Krishna commandeered the dead king’s chariot

  fast as the wind, drawn by celestial horses—

  the very one in which Indra and Vishnu

  had once slaughtered ninety-nine danavas.

  It shone with dazzling gold, and upon it

  was mounted a tall flagpole. With a thought,

  Krishna summoned Garuda, terrifying

  celestial eagle, scourge of snakes, to be

  the living banner for his chariot.

  Henceforth, hearing the bird’s unearthly cries,

  Krishna’s enemies would be struck witless,

  the blood freezing instantly in their veins.

  With Jarasandha dead, Yudhishthira

  had to secure tribute and allegiance

  from the remaining kings of Bharatavarsha.

  Then he could perform the Rajasuya,

  becoming emperor, the lord of lords,

  freeing his father from the realm of Death.

  15.

  KING OF KINGS

  Northward, eastward, to the south and west

  rode Yudhishthira’s four younger brothers

  with their armies. Their mission: to secure

  the acknowledgment of every ruler

  in Bharatavarsha that Yudhishthira

  was their sovereign lord; and to obtain

  wealth from them, in kind, gold or jewels,

  by way of loyal tribute. Here and there

  they met with opposition. Some with grudges,

  and some too proud to bear subordination,

  took up arms against the Pandavas.

  Arjuna rode north, with a huge army.

  The ground shook with the thunder of the drums,

  the rumbling chariot wheels, the marching tread

  of well-trained infantry. At his approach

  many kings gave in without a fight,

  and came to meet Arjuna, bringing tribute

  and swearing fealty to Yudhishthira.

  Others resisted, but were quickly smashed,

  often with devastating loss of life.

  In this manner, Arjuna pressed on,

  then, after subduing the snowy regions

  of the Himalaya, slowly traveled back

  to Indraprastha.

  Bhima journeyed east,

  conquering as he went. The king of Chedi,

  Shishupala, hearing of his approach,

  rode out to meet him and made him most welcome.

  He was a cousin both of the Pandavas

  and of Krishna. He agreed to honor

  Yudhishthira as supreme ruler. Bhima

  stayed a month with him as his honored guest.

  Then he went on to subjugate the Kashis,

  the Vatsas, and many other kingdoms

  before arriving back in Indraprastha

  laden with tribute.

  Sahadeva went south.

  The dark-skinned peoples of the peninsula

  resisted domination by the north;

  so did the tribal peoples of the forests

  around the coast. Sahadeva conquered

  all those kingdoms, systematically.

  Some kings surrendered, knowing their own weakness.

  They paid their dues, and promised to attend

  the coming consecration at Indraprastha.

  Sahadeva came at last to the shore

  where two oceans meet, and stared across

  to where he knew the isle of Lanka lay

  beyond the hazy sweep of the horizon.

  He sent a message to King Vibhishana

  requiring tribute, and inviting him

  to travel to the coming Rajasuya.

  Nakula too returned to Indraprastha

  with trains of elephants and lumbering oxen

  and ten thousand camels heaped with treasure.

  He had subdued kingdoms to the west,

  and received the formal acknowledgment

  of Krishna, on behalf of the Yadavas.

  No obstacle remained. Yudhishthira

  could now be consecrated king of kings,

  all-powerful emperor, lord of the earth.

  He asked Dhaumya to appoint the day

  most auspicious for the ceremony

  and issued invitations to the kings

  who owed him fealty. With great forethought,

  he made a point of asking Nakula,

  tactful and modest as his brother was,

  to go to Hastinapura, conveying

  his brother’s deep respect and to request

  each member of his uncle’s house by name

  to attend the royal consecration—

  “Not as ordinary guests,” said Nakula,

  “but as beloved members of the family

  sharing in the sacrifice. Yudhishthira

  wanted me to say to you that his wealth

  is the wealth of all the Bharatas.”

  Meanwhile,

  hectic preparations were in train.

  A beautiful enclosure was erected

  with a high altar at one end of it.

  The sacred fire was burning night and day.

  Priests especially expert in the Vedas

  were brought in by Vyasa, and appointed

  to carry out the several distinct stages

  of the ceremony. Ritual implements

  were assembled. A wooden jar stood ready

  in which waters from many holy rivers

  and lakes were blended. The jar had been exposed

  to the direct rays of both sun and moon;

  the precious liquid would be called upon

  at the climax of the great event.

  Every arrangement for the well-being

  and comfort of the guests was put in place;

  not the slightest detail was forgotten.

  Splendid pavilions, splendidly equipped,

  were built, with sumptuous furnishings, cool gardens.

  Each room was made sweet with the scent of flowers.

  The scale of the provision was stupendous—

  immense amounts of food of every kind;

  gifts and meals for the thousands of brahmins

  who would assist at the ceremony

  over many days; costly new garments

  for every phase of the consecration;

  rice, ghee, as oblations for the gods;

  feasts for the citizens of Indraprastha;

  gifts for the kings; and much, much more besides.

  The day approached. Guests started to arrive

  bringing tribute on an enormous scale

  to convey their respect for Yudhishthira,

  the Dharma King, he who governed justly,

  Ajatashatru, he without enemies,

  he whose kingdom prospered, whose people loved him.

  Each guest thought of his own gift as crucial

  to the success of the great sacrifice.

  Duryodhana, his brothers and the elders

  arrived, and were warmly welcomed by the king.

  What were Duryodhana’s thoughts as he surveyed

  the city he had heard so widely praised:

  the splendid palaces, broad avenues

  and lovely parkland—even more impressive

  than he had imagined? Whatever they were,

  he wore a smile, all affability,

  as if delighted by everything he saw.

  Yudhishthira invited all his kinsmen

  to take posts of responsibility

  for different aspects of the huge occasion.

  Bhishma and Drona were his chief advisers.

  Vidura was paymaster. Duryodhana

  was given charge of the receipt of gifts,

  and had to witness the cascades of wealth,

  the gold and jewels like a glittering stream

  pouring and tumbling into the royal coffers.

  The ceremony took its stately course.

  Narada, observing with contentment

  the seal set on Yudhishthir
a’s achievement,

  remembered hearing, in the realm of Brahma,

  the story of the partial incarnation:

  of how the gods would take on human form

  to counteract the overweening power

  of the kshatriyas. He looked at Krishna,

  knowing him to be the embodiment

  of great Narayana, the self-created.

  He glanced at the Pandavas, each brother

  the offspring of a god. He was aware

  of what had been ordained for all of them.

  It was the last day of the sacrifice.

  Yudhishthira would become emperor

  at the moment when the sacred water

  was poured over his head. But before that,

  gifts should be given to the assembled kings.

  It was his task to choose and call upon

  the most illustrious and worthy guest

  to be named formally as guest of honor.

  His would be the first guest-offering.

  At Bhishma’s instigation, he chose Krishna,

  friend, blood relative, wise counsellor.

  “This man,” said Bhishma, “is to other men

  what the sun is to other heavenly bodies,

  outshining them by far in energy,

  wisdom and prowess as a kshatriya.”

  Then Sahadeva solemnly presented

  Krishna with the finest guest-offering.

  At once, the massive King Shishupala,

  the Bull of Chedi, with a face like thunder,

  leapt to his feet bellowing in protest,

  glaring in fury at Yudhishthira.

  “What an outrage! Look around this hall,

  just cast your eyes on these illustrious monarchs

  sitting here, all slighted by your choice.

  Here are the greatest warriors in the land,

  the most distinguished elders, wisest gurus.

  Here are Drona, Kripa, Vyasa, Vidura—

  here is Krishna’s father, Vasudeva,

  yet you choose to bypass him, to honor

  his unworthy son! By any standard

  dozens of men sitting beneath your roof

  deserve the honor more. Krishna here

  is not even a king. By choosing him

  you have insulted every one of us,

  forfeiting the esteem that brought us here.

  Perhaps you see him as your priest, or teacher.

  Even so—how can you prefer this man

  when Drona and Dvaipayana are present?

  “What has he done that’s so remarkable?

  Killed a vulture when he was a child!

  Lifted a mountain no bigger than an anthill!

  How does this sinful killer of cows and women

  deserve the choicest gift? It’s favoritism!

  In praising him, you are devaluing dharma.

  “And you, Krishna—you should be ashamed

  to take the token offered. You’re like a dog

 

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