After this Pandu once again thought, “We must have a warrior in our family whose prowess at arms should be unmatched.” After a full year’s penance observed by both himself and Kunthi, they prayed to Indra, the Chief of Gods, who had great endowments. When Kunthi gave birth to a son, a heavenly voice said, “This son will be unmatched in energy, wisdom, and the knowledge of weapons; he will wield with ease every kind of weapon and subjugate all his enemies and bring fame to the race of Kurus.” This child was named Arjuna.
After this Kunthi declined to bear any more children, although Pandu was eager for more. Madri, his second wife, also pleaded at this time that she should not be left barren, while Kunthi had three children. Pandu appealed to Kunthi to impart the mantra to Madri. Invoking the gods Aswins, she conceived and brought forth the brilliant twins Nakula and Sahadeva. These five brothers came to be known as the Pandavas.
Meanwhile, Gandhari had borne a hundred sons by Dhritarashtra, the blind King, the eldest being Duryodhana, the second Dussasana, and so on. These set themselves up as enemies of the Pandavas all their life, and The Mahabharata may be said to be a tale of conflict between the two groups that never ceased except with death.
Pandu’s end came on rather suddenly. One day, going into the woods in the company of Madri, he was overcome by the spirit of the hour and the mood of the spring, with tender leaves on the trees, and colourful blossoms, and the cries of birds, and the stirrings of animal life all around. Unable to resist the attraction of Madri at his side, he seized her passionately, in spite of her reminder of the curse, and died during intercourse. Entrusting her twins to the care of Kunthi, Madri ascended the funeral pyre along with her husband and ended her life.
2 Enter—the Players
FROM THE SYLVAN RETREAT where pandu had spent his later days, after his death, kunthi came to Hastinapura with her five children to live under the care of Dhritarashtra and Bhishma. Dhritarashtra, at this stage at least, treated alike the one hundred sons born to his wife and the five of his brother’s sons. They were nourished, educated, and trained without partiality.
The children played all day among themselves, but at every game Bhimasena teased and played pranks on his cousins. Duryodhana gradually began to feel irritated when he found himself the butt of these pranks and practical jokes. When he walked or ran, Bhimasena tripped him from behind; when he climbed a tree, Bhima would seize its trunk in his mighty grip and give it a shake till the other fell off his perch. At a later stage, Duryodhana began to feel that existence would be impossible with his cousins around. Through his accomplices, he made a few attempts to get rid of them, especially Bhima, who was drugged, poisoned, trussed up, and thrown into the river. But Bhima managed to overcome the effect of the drug, neutralised the poison, and floated up from the depths of the river.
When Bhishma appointed a guru to train the young men in the use of arms, Duryodhana noticed with bitterness that the master was paying special attention to Arjuna. The guru, called Drona, was of brahmin origin and, unusually for a brahmin, was an expert in warfare and the science of weapons. He coached his pupils with great sincerity and made them all versatile fighters. He also trained his only son, Aswathama, with special care.
In addition to what he was directly taught, Arjuna watched unseen all those special lessons Aswathama was given by his father and absorbed them also. Arjuna soon became adept in wielding the sword, the mace, and the lance, or in hitting the mark with his arrow, however difficult the target might be. He fought with equal ease on foot, horseback, or chariot; single-handed he could engage a vast number in combat. In addition to these skills, he could effectively send out astras, missiles propelled by mystic incantations. Thus he could perform what seemed miracles with his bow and arrow.
One day, to test his pupils, Drona mounted an artificial eagle on a tall pole and told them to try to sever its head from its body when he gave the order. First he said, “Tell me each of you all that comes within your sight when you take aim.” He started with Yudhistira, who explained, “I see you and that tree and the branches….”
Drona shook his head and cried, “Stop, stop; next.” The next also gave an account of all that came within the range of his vision. Finally he summoned Arjuna and asked, “What do you see?”
“A bird above.”
“How much of it?”
“Only its head.”
“What part of the head?”
“The forehead.”
“What part of the forehead?”
“The centre.”
“Shoot,” Drona ordered, and Arjuna brought down the head of the bird neatly. Drona hugged him with joy. “This indeed is marksmanship!”
Arjuna had an occasion to prove again his extraordinary gift. Once, when bathing in the river, Drona’s thighs were caught in the jaws of a crocodile. Arjuna immediately shot five arrows into the river and sliced up the monster into fragments. For this service, Drona imparted to him the secret of employing a very special weapon. But he warned him, “If hurled against an inferior foe, it might burn up the entire universe; keep it with care. If you encounter a supernatural foe, you may use it without any thought. With this weapon in your hand, no one in the world can ever conquer you.”
Bhima and Duryodhana were experts in wielding the mace for offence and defence. Aswathama was an expert in several branches of arms, the twins in handling the sword. Yudhistira was unexcelled as a chariot fighter (one who could move his chariot for attack and counter-attack in a battle and fight in motion). At last Drona reported to King Dhritarashtra, “Your sons have completed their training. They have nothing more to learn. Now, we must arrange an exhibition of their skills. Let there be a public ceremony, which the citizens may witness.”
On a vast ground, galleries and pavilions were built for the spectators around a spacious arena. On a chosen day, invitations were sent out far and wide. The King, along with his wife and members of the royal family, occupied special seats. Many princes from the neighbouring countries were also present. Drona, clad in white, entered the arena and formally announced to the public the names and accomplishments of his pupils, presenting them one by one. A commentator, Sanjaya, sat beside Dhritarashtra and narrated in detail everything he witnessed on the arena. “Now, here they come. Yudhistira enters on horseback, leading the rest. His younger brothers, in the order of their rank and age, are giving a display, each bearing his favourite weapon in hand. It is really wonderful. Ah! The spectators are excited and now you can hear their shouts. Ah, some are averting their heads for fear that the arrows may fall on them, but the arrows fly with such precision that they fall within an inch of those in the front rows. Well done! Well done.… What grace and agility! Now their guru approaches each one of them to bless them publicly. He looks so happy… ” Dhritarashtra listened to this account enthusiastically at first, but later rather coldly asked, “What about my sons? You have said nothing about them.”
“Yes, yes, they are there, also resplendent, perhaps waiting for their turn.”
“You say nothing about Duryodhana.”
“Oh, he is just entering with his mace held high and Bhima faces him, swinging his mace like a wild elephant raising its trunk…. Duryodhana is surrounded by all his brothers. He looks like the red planet studded around with stars; his face is flushed with anger and if they clash with their maces it will be an unbearable spectacle. But Aswathama stands upright in the midst of your sons… he moves with ease and confidence between the clashing mountains. He has been asked by his father, Drona, to restrain Bhima and your son and separate them.
“Arjuna is at the centre of the stage…. Oh, he has mastered the astras, and the mantras that charge them with power. Now with one arrow he has created fire; now water, air, and storm. Don’t you hear? Now clouds, now land, he has created mountains around, and now when he employs another weapon, all of them vanish. Now on a chariot, now on foot, so dexterous and fast. Now he discharges twenty shafts into the hollow of a bull horn, suspended overhead and swinging
in the wind. Marvellous feats… marvellous feats.… His master sheds tears of joy. Arjuna pauses only to receive the pat on his back.”
Nearly at the close of Arjuna’s grand performance, when the public excitement was dying down and the musical instruments became silent, there arose at the gate a sudden uproar. A warrior, hitherto unnoticed, clad in a mail coat, brilliant looking and wearing earrings, stood throwing challenges in a thundering tone. It was Karna, whom no one had seen before except Kunthi, when she had floated him down the river as an infant. Being the offspring of the Sun God, he had a radiant personality, and people began to look at each other and ask, “Who is this youth? Who is this?”
The warrior threw a casual, indifferent salute in the direction of Drona and the other elders and proclaimed, “I can do all that Partha* has done and more.” With Drona’s permission, he repeated every act that Arjuna had performed. This delighted Duryodhana, who hugged him, happy at finding a rival to Arjuna, and promised, “Your wish will be fulfilled whatever it may be. Live with us and be one of us. Treat all that we have as yours.”
Karna replied, “I accept your friendship without hesitation. I have only one small desire, help me attain it—to engage Arjuna in a single combat.”
“Go on, with our blessings,” said Duryodhana. “We know that you will place your feet on the head of your foe, whoever he may be.”
Arjuna felt stirred by this dialogue. “You are an intruder, you have come unasked, unceremoniously, and I will give you just the treatment any impudent intruder deserves.”
“This arena is a public one,” retorted Karna. “I have as much right to be here as anyone else. A true kshatriya has no need to waste his time in words, like the feeble ones of other castes who exhaust themselves in futile arguments. If you have learnt to hold a bow and arrow, let that speak and you will get my immediate answer!”
Now the parties were falling into definite groups, the Pandava brothers surrounding Arjuna on one side, Duryodhana on the opposite side, with Drona, Vidura, and the other elders uncertainly in between. When they faced each other thus, Kunthi—who by certain marks now recognized Karna as her son—swooned away at the prospect of the brothers attacking each other. Kunthi was revived with a sprinkling of sandal paste and rose water by Vidura, who knew Karna’s antecedents.
Arjuna, being the son of Indra, the Lord of Cloud and Thunder, was protected by that god, who sent down clouds and mist to obscure Arjuna’s presence. Karna, being the son of the Sun God, was bathed in bright light and stood exposed, a perfect target for an archer. At this moment, Kripa, a master of the science of war and a guru for Dhritarashtra’s children, addressed Karna. “O warrior, please tell us the names of your father and mother and the name of the royal line you come from. After you mention it, this warrior Arjuna will decide whether to fight or not. He is the son of a King, and you realise that sons of kings will not stoop to fight with men of lesser breed.”
At this Karna’s face fell. He could not satisfy the formalities of lineage. He stood dumb.
Duryodhana interrupted. “At this very moment, I am installing him as the King of Anga, for which I have the authority.” He hurriedly summoned the priests to the arena, went through the ceremony of a coronation, and proclaimed Karna the King of Anga, while the gathering watched in wonder. He then addressed Arjuna, “Now here is the King, he has no objection to engaging you in combat, mere Prince that you are. You see the royal umbrella held over him.”
But no actual combat ensued. The duel was mostly verbal, as Bhima came forward to question Karna’s kingly status. “I noticed, a little while ago, the driver of the chariot coming down to hug and cheer him. He is no eminent charioteer, as one might have on a battlefield, but an ordinary suta who whips horses and drives his master from place to place. This fellow is this instant dubbed King, but he is no more than the son of a driver. Go, go, you fellow, your hand is made to crack a whip, not to lift a sword or a bow.”
Duryodhana argued back, “Karna is not only the King of Anga, but can easily be the ruler of the whole world. He will be equal to five of you or more at any time. If anyone resists this claim, let him ascend his chariot and bend his bow, employing both his hands and feet.”
There were confused murmurs in the crowd, some approving, some disapproving. At this moment the sun set and since there could be no combat after sunset, the assembly dispersed. Duryodhana, clasping Karna’s hand, led him through a path of lamps lit especially for him.
Presently, Drona gathered all his pupils and announced, “The time has come to demand of you my fee for the training and guidance I have given you. I have waited for this occasion all my life.”
When they all assured him that they would give him whatever he asked, he just said, “Now you must march on Panchala, seize their King, whose name is Drupada, and bring him prisoner before me. If you succeed in this effort, you will have fulfilled my lifelong ambition.”
Without asking for any word of explanation, they assured him, “We will set out this minute.”
“Yes, but listen first to this story,” explained Drona. “When I was young, I lived with my father, Bharadwaj, who was a great teacher. He trained me so that I could be a teacher in my time, and if you have learnt anything now, it is all what he had taught me originally. My classmate at that time was the son of one Prishta, who came every day to our hermitage to study in my company and then play with me. We were good friends. When Prishta died, my friend succeeded to the throne. He bade me farewell, and assured me not to hesitate if I needed his help at any time. When my son Aswathama was born, my father was no more and I had a difficult time. When the child cried for milk and I could not get it for him, I felt desperate, and I thought of visiting my friend to ask for a cow. His guards at the palace gate stopped me. I then ordered them to go in and announce to the Prince—as I had known him—that his old friend had come to see him. He made me wait at the gate till the evening, and then two guards escorted me, as if I were a prisoner, to his august presence. As he sat there on a high seat, surrounded by his courtiers, I felt like a beggar looking up at him.
“‘Who are you? What do you want?’ he asked majestically. I explained who I was and how I had come to visit him as an old friend. ‘Friend!’ he repeated sneeringly and looked about. His courtiers sniggered politely, stared at me with surprise, and shook their heads. I repeated the word ‘friend’ again, whereupon the King from his eminence said, ‘Oh, ignorant one, don’t you realise that there can be no such thing as friendship between persons of unequal status? How can a king be a friend of a man in want, such as you? Obviously, you have come to ask for something. Yes, that you shall have for travelling so far. I see that you are a brahmin in want, but don’t ask for friendship. It can never be. Take the gift and be gone.’ He turned to a courtier and said something and continued, ‘It may be that we were at some stage thrown together through special circumstances, but don’t you realise that time changes everything? There can be no such thing as permanent friendship; it is a childish notion…. Now you may go, take the presents they will bring you and go away.’
“I stood speechless with rage. I could not bring myself to mention my child. I could hardly believe that this was the same man I had played with under the trees of our hermitage until his elders came after him in the evening to take him home. I was too angry to say more than, ‘I will wait till the same “time” you speak of comes round to give me a chance to speak to you again.’ I turned on my heel and left, while they ran after me with all sorts of gifts in a bundle. I threw the bundle at the palace gate and went home. Thereafter, I wandered here and there, and when I came to this city, Bhishma recognized me and engaged me to be your teacher. Now let me demand my fee. Go out all of you, attack Panchala with the best of your arms, chariots, and soldiers, and bring that Drupada back a prisoner, alive….”
Soon the engines of war rolled on, and the young men were delighted to test their skill in arms. In a matter of days, they returned with the booty asked for, King Drupada, as ca
ptive. They placed him before their master Drona, who addressed him from his eminent seat: “Aswathama, who is my son, was a child in need of milk when I approached you for help to acquire a cow for his sake. Today, he is a warrior in his own right; he joined my other pupils in besieging your city—all on my order. I could take your life, if I chose, but have no fear. I am not vindictive, still valuing the memory of our boyhood days. I will give you back half your kingdom, unasked. The other half I will keep and rule, so that we may remain equals. I will always be your friend; have no doubt about it.”
3 House of Joy—and Ashes
DHRITARASHTRA, in an excess of affection for his nephews, announced Yudhistira as his heir apparent, and immediately he regretted it. The heir apparent and his brothers appeared to take their roles too earnestly. The brothers together and separately led expeditions around the neighbouring kingdoms, conquered territories, and expanded the empire of Kurus. They became heroes in the eyes of the public, who discussed their exploits constantly.
As became a king, Dhritarashtra constantly enquired of his spies, “What are people talking about?” The spies reported how at the market-place everyone was talking about Arjuna’s exploits, the feats of Bhima, or the greatness of Yudhistira. The King would have preferred his sons to be mentioned also, but there was no reference to Duryodhana or his brothers.
He called his chief minister, a man versed in political subtleties, and asked him confidentially, “Did you notice how Pandu’s sons are trying to become popular, overshadowing everyone else? I am not feeling happy about it. You realise that my sons and nephews are equally endowed, but those boys are going too far. Please advise me. You know what I have in mind.”
The minister, astute and cunning, replied, “Yes, yes, I understand. I was preparing to bring up this subject myself.” He then elaborated on his thesis as to how a king should protect himself from enemies within and without, and how ruthless he should be in guarding himself. “Keep your teeth sharp enough to give a fatal bite at any moment. You should stand in fear even of those from whom you could expect no treachery. Never trust anyone or show your distrust openly. There can be no kith and kin for a king, if Your Majesty will forgive my saying so. We must place our spies not only in foreign kingdoms, but in our midst too; in public gardens, places of amusement, temples, drinking halls; in the homes of ministers, chief priest, chief justice, heir apparent and heir presumptive; and also behind doorkeepers and drivers of chariots…. Our sources of information must be widespread and unlimited. Every report, however slight, must be scrutinised and assayed. For a long time I have been considering various measures of security to be enforced in this palace, only now do I dare talk about it.” He suggested in a subtle, roundabout manner that the King should exile his nephews.
The Mahabharata Page 3