The Mahabharata

by R. K. Narayan

  Before Draupadi had finished, Bhimasena rose and addressed Yudhistira. “Our enemies have snatched away our kingdom not through fair means, but by deceit. Why should we accept that state? It was your weakness and carelessness that brought on this condition. To please you, we have had to accept this calamity… to please you. We have let down our friends and well-wishers and gratified our enemies. My greatest regret in life is that we ever listened to you and accepted your guidance; otherwise Arjuna and I could have dealt with those sons of King Dhritarashtra. It was the greatest folly of my life—the memory of it hurts me perpetually—to have spared those fellows. Why should we live in the forest like wild beasts or mendicants holding up a begging bowl—even if the bowl is the gift of the Sun God? Food taken as alms may suit the brahmin, but a kshatriya must fight and earn his food. You have bound yourself hand and foot with several vows and with the cry of religion; but Dhritarashtra and his sons, my lord, regard us not as men disciplined with vows, but as imbeciles. Give up your apathy and feebleness, and become a sovereign again and rule your subjects as a kshatriya should, instead of wasting your precious days amidst animals and recluses. Leave Arjuna and me to clear the way for you….”

  Yudhistira brooded on what he had said. “I cannot reproach you for your words and for the feeling behind them. I agree that it was all my mistake. I confess to something now. I agreed to the gambling only with a secret hope that I would be able to snatch away the whole kingdom and sovereignty from Duryodhana and make him my vassal, while we had only half the kingdom after our return from Panchala Desa; but he played with the aid of that expert, Sakuni, and now I am paying for my own cupidity, which I had not confessed to any one till now. Don’t decide in anger or hurry; we will not achieve anything through such resolutions. Oh, Bhima, I am pained by your words, please wait patiently for better times. I have given my word that we would remain in exile for thirteen years, and I cannot easily retract it now. Nothing else matters….”

  Bhima made a gesture of despair. “We are like froth on the river, drifting with its current, whatever one may think or do. Every moment we are growing older. Thirteen years…! Who knows whether we will be alive or fit to take back our kingdom? And we will have thirteen years less for our existence. We should attempt to wrest back our kingdom this very minute. We have already spent thirteen months in exile. Each month has been like a year, and that is sufficient fulfilment of your promise. You have agreed to remain incognito for a year after the twelve-year exile. How can this condition ever be fulfilled? Dhritarashtra’s sons will find out our whereabouts through their spies, and then we will have to go into exile for another twelve years. Is that it? That was an unfair condition for the thirteenth year. How could you agree to it? How could the six of us ever remain unnoticed? Myself particularly, how can I be concealed? You might as well try to hide Mount Meru…. O King, now let us plan seriously….”

  Yudhistira remained silent for a long time, and then said, “Apart from my promise and the bond thereon, it will not be practical for us to plunge into a conflict now. On his side, Duryodhana has the support of Bhishma, Drona, and his son Aswathama. All the others, who speak favourably for us now, will join him should a conflict arise, since they are kept and sheltered by him. Furthermore, all the armies of the kings we have punished in our early campaigns will look for an opportunity to muster themselves for an attack against us. We must gather strength and support gradually until we can match our army with theirs. You and Arjuna are on our side, but Drona, his son Aswathama, and Karna, practically invincible men, are on their side. How are we to vanquish all those men? We have no chance of surviving a fight yet. I feel uneasy thinking of all this. I do not know what to do really….”

  At this moment Vyasa arrived, and said, “Yudhistira, I read what passes in your mind, and am here to dispel your fears. There will come a time, be assured of it, when Arjuna will slay all your foes in battle. I will impart to you a mantra called Pratismriti, and that will help you. You will impart it to Arjuna, and let him go forth to meet the gods in their worlds and receive from each of them a special weapon. After he obtains them he will become invincible. Don’t despair.” He took Yudhistira aside and asked him to go through a purificatory bath, and whispered the mantra in his ear. After that, Vyasa departed, tendering a parting advice. “You have stayed in Dwaitavana long enough. Now move on to another suitable place, and you will feel happier there. It is not pleasant to stay in any one place too long.”

  Presently Yudhistira moved from Dwaitavana with his brothers and Draupadi to reside in Kamyakavana, which offered them a background of lovely lakes and woods. In due course, Yudhistira felt the time ripe to impart the secret mantra to Arjuna. On an auspicious day, after due preparations, he transferred the great mantra to Arjuna and gave him leave to acquire more weapons from Indra, Varuna, Iswara, and other gods. Arjuna moved northward and soon reached the Vindhya Mountains, where he selected a spot and settled down to meditate.

  Shiva appeared to Arjuna, first in the guise of a hunter and then in his true form, granted to him an astra called Pasupatha, and then vanished. Following him, Varuna, Yama, and Kubera came one after another and imparted the techniques of their different special weapons, assuring him success against the Kauravas.

  Then on a mountain path he found a chariot waiting to carry him to Indra’s city, Amaravathi. Being the son of Indra, he was received with all honours and entertained with music and dance by celestial beings. In due course Indra imparted to him the secrets of his weapons, and then suggested, “You will now learn music and dance, which you will find useful some day.” So a gandharva named Chitrasena tutored him in the arts.

  During this period, the celestial courtesan Urvasi fell in love with Arjuna and, with Indra’s sanction, set out to meet him at night dressed in transparent silk, anointed with perfumes. When she knocked on the door of Arjuna’s abode, he received her with profound courtesy, declaring, “You are like my mother Kunthi or Madri….” at which Urvasi felt spurned and asked if he had no manliness left. He told her, “I am under an ascetic vow at this time in order to achieve certain aims and I cannot view you except as my mother.” She cursed him, “Since you have disregarded a woman who has been commanded by her lord and your father to please you, may you pass among women unnoticed and treated as a eunuch.” She flounced out in a rage. Later, Indra told him, “You have surpassed even the most austere rishis in exercising self-control. Urvasi’s curse will bear fruit in the thirteenth year of your exile, when you will find it actually to be a blessing.”

  At Kamyakavana, missing his company, Arjuna’s brothers and wife felt depressed and restless. On the advice of Sage Narada, Yudhistira decided to go on a pilgrimage; to bathe in holy rivers and lakes and pray in all the sacred spots. The Pandavas began their pilgrimage westward, visiting Naimisha Forest on the banks of the Godavari, and then proceeded to the confluence of the Ganga and Yamuna, where the gods were said to come down to perform tapas. They zig-zagged their way through the country, never missing a single mountain or river that had any sacred association. They could now forget their sorrows, although always feeling a perpetual emptiness in their hearts owing to Arjuna’s absence. At the end of the twelfth year of exile, they had arrived at a certain spot in the Himalayas, where Arjuna rejoined them after an absence of five years. When he described to them the weapons he had acquired from the divine sources, their hopes rose again, and they began to discuss seriously how to win back their kingdom after the lapse of one more year of exile in disguise. At the end of the pilgrimage they returned to Kamyakavana.

  9 Hundred Questions

  MEANWHILE, news reached Dhritarashtra through his spies of the movements and achievements of the Pandavas, particularly of Arjuna’s additions to his arsenal. Dhritarashtra was, as usual, torn between avuncular sentiments and a desire to preserve himself and his sons. He went off into speculations on what to do, and as usual fell into total confusion. Duryodhana watched his father’s reactions with uneasiness and said, “The
King cannot forget his nephews; he is obsessed with thoughts of them. Now that we know where they are, why should we not act swiftly and end this nuisance once and for all?”

  “That may not prove so easy,” said Sakuni. “Arjuna has acquired extraordinary powers and, fired by a sense of revenge, the Pandavas may prove formidable. However, they have still over a year to remain in exile. Yudhistira will not go back on his word, even if the King grows soft and invites them to return home. But you may do one thing. They are now in Kamyaka looking like wandering tribes, clad in animal hide and rolling in dust. Why don’t you go up and exhibit yourself in your fullest royal splendour? You are the lord of the world today, enjoying unlimited wealth, power, and authority. It is said that there could be nothing more gratifying than showing off one’s superiority before an enemy reduced to beggary. Why don’t you establish a royal camp in the vicinity of the Kamyaka Forest, and we will see that they come up before you in their rags to be admitted grudgingly by the gatekeepers?”

  On the excuse of having to inspect the cattle grazing on their frontiers, Duryodhana got Dhritarashtra’s permission to establish a camp in the vicinity of Kamyaka. The camp was a regal one with hundreds of courtesans, attendants, soldiers, and courtiers. Feasts, dances, music, and entertainment of every kind went on noisily night and day. The whole area was transformed with colourful illuminations and fireworks.

  Duryodhana and his accomplices had arrived at the camp in splendid armour and military equipment, in dazzling style. They hoped that the Pandavas would notice the brilliance and gaiety of the camp across the river from Kamyaka. Duryodhana tried to send a messenger to summon the Pandavas before him, but the messenger was denied passage across the river by a watchman, a gandharva sent down by the gods to create a crisis. After heated arguments and protests, a scuffle ensued. Others gradually got involved in the affair.

  Starting thus, imperceptibly, a full-fledged fight developed between the armies of the gandharvas and Duryodhana. At the end of the skirmish, after his soldiers had been killed, Duryodhana was taken prisoner with his allies and bound in chains.

  Learning of this incident, and of Karna’s flight from it, Yudhistira dispatched Bhima and Arjuna to rescue Duryodhana: “After all, they are our brothers, and whatever might be the conflict between us, we cannot abandon them now.”

  Bhima and Arjuna went into action, and were able to free the prisoners from the gandharvas, who had been instructed by Indra himself to undertake this expedition and teach Duryodhana a lesson. Duryodhana thanked the Pandavas for their help, wound up his camp, and went back to Hastinapura, sadder and wiser. The Pandavas returned to Dwaitavana.

  The Pandavas were in a hopeful mood when they came back to their original starting point, Dwaitavana, after their prolonged pilgrimage. Dwaitavana was rich in fruits and roots, and the Pandavas lived on sparse diets, performing austerities and practising rigid vows.

  They managed to live, on the whole, a tranquil life—until one day a brahmin arrived in a state of great agitation. He had lost a churning staff and two faggots of a special kind, with which he produced the fire needed for his religious activities. All his hours were normally spent in the performance of rites. But that day, he wailed, “A deer of extraordinary size, with its antlers spreading out like the branches of a tree, dashed in unexpectedly, lowered its head, and stuck the staff and the faggots in its horns, turned round, and vanished before I could understand what was happening. I want your help to recover those articles of prayer, for without them I will not be able to perform my daily rites. You can see its hoof marks on the ground and follow them.”

  As a kshatriya, Yudhistira felt it his duty to help the brahmin, so with his brothers, he set out to chase the deer. They followed its hoof marks and eventually spotted it, after a long chase. But when they shot their arrows, the deer sprang away, tempted them to follow it here and there, and suddenly vanished without a trace. They were by this time drawn far into the forest and, feeling fatigued and thirsty, they sat under a tree to rest.

  Yudhistira told his youngest brother, Nakula, “Climb this tree and look for any sign of water nearby.”

  Presently, Nakula cried from the top of the tree, “I see some green patches and also hear the cries of cranes… must be a water source.” He came down and proceeded towards a crystal-clear pond, sapphire-like, reflecting the sky. He fell down on his knees and splashed the water on his face. As he did this, a loud voice, which seemed to come from a crane standing in the water, cried, “Stop! This pond is mine. Don’t touch it until you answer my questions. After answering, drink or take away as much water as you like.” Nakula’s thirst was so searing that he could not wait. He bent down and, cupping his palms, raised the water to his lips. He immediately collapsed, and lay, to all purposes, dead.

  After a while, Yudhistira sent his brother, Sahadeva, to see what was delaying Nakula’s return. He too rushed forward eagerly at the sight of the blue pond, heard the warning, tasted the water, and fell dead.

  Arjuna followed. On hearing the voice, he lifted his bow, shot an arrow in the direction of the voice, and approached the water’s edge. The voice said, “Don’t be foolhardy. Answer me first before you touch the water.”

  Arjuna, surveying with shock and sadness the bodies of his younger brothers, replied, “When you are silenced with my arrows, you will cease to question….” Driven to desperation with thirst and enraged at the spectacle of his dead brothers, he sent a rain of arrows in all directions. As the voice continued to warn, “Don’t touch,” he stooped and took the water to his lips and fell dead.

  Next came Bhima. He saw his brothers lying dead, and swung his mace and cried back when he heard the voice, “O evil power, whoever you may be, I will put an end to you presently, but let me first get rid of this deadly thirst….” Turning a deaf ear to the warning, he took the water in the cup of his palm and with the first sip fell dead, the mace rolling away at his side.

  Yudhistira himself presently arrived, passing through the forest where no human being had set foot before except his brothers. He was struck by the beauty of the surroundings—enormous woods, resonant with the cry of birds, the occasional grunt of a bear, or the light tread of a deer on dry leaves—and then he came upon the magnificent lake, looking as if made by heavenly hands. There on its bank he saw his brothers.

  He wept and lamented aloud. Both the poignancy and the mystery of it tormented him. He saw Arjuna’s bow and Bhima’s mace lying on the ground, and reflected, “Where is your promise to split Duryodhana’s thigh? What was the meaning of the gods’ statement at Arjuna’s birth that no one could vanquish him?” How was he to explain this calamity to Kunthi?

  A little later he said to himself, “This is no ordinary death. I see no marks of injury on any of them. What is behind it all?” Could it be that Duryodhana had pursued them, and had his agents at work? He observed the dead faces; they bore no discolouration or sign of decay. He realised that his brothers could not have been killed by mortals, and concluded that there must be some higher power responsible. Resolving not to act hastily, he considered all the possibilities, and stepped into the lake to perform the rites for the dead.

  The voice now said, “Don’t act rashly; answer my questions first and then drink and take away as much water as you like. If you disregard me, you will be the fifth corpse here. I am responsible for the deaths of all these brothers of yours; this lake is mine and whoever ignores my voice will die. Take care!”

  Yudhistira said humbly, “What god are you to have vanquished these invincible brothers of mine, gifted and endowed with inordinate strength and courage? Your feat is great and I bow to you in homage, but please explain who you are and why you have slain these innocent slakers of thirst? I do not understand your purpose, my mind is agitated and curious. Please tell me who you are.”

  At this request he saw an immense figure materialising beside the lake, towering over the surroundings. “I am a yaksha. These brothers of yours, though warned, tried to force their wa
y in and have paid for it with their lives. If you wish to live, don’t drink this water before you answer my questions.”

  Yudhistira answered humbly, “O yaksha, I will not covet what is yours. I will not touch this water without your sanction, in spite of my thirst. I will answer your questions as well as I can.”

  The yaksha asked, “What makes the sun rise?… What causes him to set?”

  Yudhistira answered, “The Creator Brahma makes the sun rise, and his dharma causes the sun to set….”

  Yudhistira had to stand a gruelling test. He had no time even to consider what to say, as the questions came in a continuous stream. Yudhistira was afraid to delay an answer or plead ignorance. Some of the questions sounded fatuous, some of them profound, some obscure but packed with layers of significance. Yudhistira was constantly afraid that he might upset the yaksha and provoke him to commit further damage, although one part of his mind reflected, “What worse fate can befall us?”

  Without giving him time to think, the questions came, sometimes four at a time in one breath. Their range was unlimited, and they jumped from one topic to another.