THE MAHABHARATA: A Modern Rendering, Vol 2 (10 page)

A commotion broke out. Some courtiers sprang forward to revive the sarathy and the king asked in alarm, “What happened? Why doesn’t Sanjaya speak?”

Bheeshma said dryly, “He swooned at the memory of the Pandava army.”

Dhritarashtra’s hands were cold again. Sanjaya was revived with sharp salts and as he began to describe the army at Upaplavya in a low, clear voice, Dhritarashtra’s terror grew.

“My lord, besides the Pandavas and Satyaki, Virata will fight against us; and with them, Drupada, Shikhandi and Dhrishtadyumna, Yuyudhana, Jarasandha’s son Jayatsena, Dhrishtaketu, the Chedi king and many others as unconquerable. Their armies teem with kshatriyas whose names I do not know. But I saw them and they are hardly less formidable than their kings.”

Dhritarashtra whispered, “Listening to you, Sanjaya, I fear for my sons’ lives. And more than any of the kshatriyas you have named, I fear Bheema! I see him at nights, red-eyed and terrible. I hear the oath he swore that he would kill Duryodhana and Dusasana. I feel certain that, truly like Yama himself, he will raze our army and kill all my sons. Ah, Duryodhana, I see you with your thigh broken, dying slowly, in agony. Dusasana, my child, I see you with your chest torn open by Vayu’s son and his lips stained with your blood.

I see Bheema sweep over our legions like a scarlet Ganga in spate. I am blind, I know, but I see all this with ghastly clarity, even as sighted men see the world. Listen to me, my sons, I have never spoken to you like this before. I don’t sleep at night, but lie awake watching these visions of death. I see Yudhishtira’s angry eyes turned to glare at my children. They are terrible eyes, Duryodhana and I cry out when he looks at me.

Oh, my friends, I am helpless; my son will not listen to me. He has sinned, but it is not too late to turn back from his sin. If only he would relent.”

Unexpectedly Sanjaya cried, “My lord, it is you who are to blame not Duryodhana! The sin is yours. For years, Vidura tried to bring you back to dharma. Tirelessly, he sought to show you the way to light. But you were greedy and envious, my lord, you would never listen to him.

I was in this sabha when the game of dice was played. How much Vidura begged you to stop it. Did you listen? Your ears were keened to the roll of the ivory dice and you would turn to me to whisper, ‘Who won? Who won?’ My lord, a father is the best friend a man can have in this life. You have denied your son the fortune of having a wise father’s advice and firmness, when he most needed it. You were not a wise father, but a selfish one. You thought only of your own material benefit, not of the harm you were doing to your son’s character. Dhritarashtra, you led your boy to his ruin.

You were the king. A word from you would have been enough: you could have stopped the game of dice. Your brother Pandu served you loyally when he was alive. His conquests make up most of this kingdom. But when his sons came home to Hastinapura, you did not treat them justly. This kingdom and this city rightfully belong to Yudhishtira, but you gave him a desert. And he made it bloom. Then your son took that away from his cousin, as well, with deceit.

When the Pandavas were banished, you felt no grief for them, Dhritarashtra, but only fear because they left swearing revenge. Do you remember you called me that day, my lord?”

The king had nothing to say. Sanjaya went on, relentlessly, “And I say to you today, O king, the sons of Pandu shall fulfil their oaths. They will kill your sons. And your princes will die not so much for their sins, as for yours, Dhritarashtra; that you did not stop them when you should have, but, instead, abetted their folly from your own avarice.

At least Duryodhana has those that love him in this world; for his sake, eleven aksauhinis have come to Hastinapura. All these kshatriyas are ready to die for him. They have not come for you, Dhritarashtra, or for the Kurus, but for your son. This prince would have been an emperor in his own right, except that you led him down an evil path. Once I thought you were more clear-sighted than men that saw the world with their eyes; you have proved you are truly blind.

My lord, your sons will die on the battlefield, but they will not die cowards. They will die such deaths that the world will remember them. All their sins shall be forgiven and they will find the heaven meant for kshatriyas killed in battle.

Duryodhana’s selfishness will be forgiven, because he will die a resplendent death at Bheema’s hands. And this Karna, this most generous man on earth, will die for his Duryodhana. What greater gift is there than to give one’s life for one’s friend? He will be remembered as the noblest of men. But you, my poor lord, will find no such release. You will outlive all your sons in dreadful grief. You will live to see ruin, to gaze into the face of doom. And then you will curse yourself that you did not relent earlier and prevent this war. You will not escape retribution, Dhritarashtra, there is no Salvation for you.

Dhritarashtra had turned pale on his throne. His lips worked feverishly and he could not hide the terror he felt. Now and then, a moan would escape him, as he sat huddled within his blindness; but he was so transparent and pathetic today.

NINE
‘NOT LAND TO COVER THE POINT OF A NEEDLE’ 

Duryodhana saw his father terrified and he rose in sorrow. “Why are you so afraid, my lord? The news Sanjaya brings about the Pandava army is nothing new to me. I am aware they have a vast and powerful host. But our cousins have been in exile for thirteen years, while we have prepared for this war. Father, do you think me a fool that I am not aware of what we are going into?

No, I remember my own anxiety of thirteen years ago, when dark Krishna, Satyaki, Drupada and Dhrishtadyumna went to meet Yudhishtira in the Kamyaka vana. They had mustered an army for him. They saw the Pandavas wearing deerskin and tree-bark and they told Yudhishtira to march on Hastinapura straightaway and take back his kingdom. If he had listened to them, we would have been finished. For then, all the kings of the earth were against us; only this loyal Karna was on my side.

I heard an army had gathered near the Kamyaka aranya and I was afraid. I went to Acharya Drona and I said, ‘What will we do if they attack us now?’

Drona said, ‘Don’t be afraid, Duryodhana. Any one of us, Bheeshma, Kripa or I, can defeat them. When he took the princesses of Kasi, your Pitama vanquished an army by himself. With Bheeshma on your side, you need never fear.’

My lord, even when the Pandavas had all the kings of Bharatavarsha with them and we had none, Drona said we would beat them. Today I have more friends than they do and I have nurtured my friendships. Our cousins have been in the wilderness for thirteen years and they have been all but forgotten. They are like some dim memory now, their power barely real any more. If they have seven aksauhinis, I command eleven. Moreover, most of those who will fight for them are their own blood: which is seldom any guarantee for having the best warriors.”

He paused and his lip curled. “As for Bheema, father, I am the better mace-fighter. I have spent hours, every day, perfecting my skills. Even when we were students, our guru Balarama would always say, ‘Duryodhana is my best sishya. He is my equal, none of you others can touch him.’ Bheema knows I am better than he is and so do Krishna and Arjuna.

As with everything else, my cousin is a crude mace-fighter. He has brute strength but few finer skills. I long to meet him on the field! I have loathed Bheema since we were boys. He always thought he and his brothers were superior to everyone else. I look forward to the moment when we come face to face and I smash his soft head like a melon. After Bheema is dead, even I will be able to kill Arjuna. The Pandavas’ spirit will break and we will rip through them.”

As he spoke, Duryodhana paced the sabha like a lion in his prime. Honor and morale were at stake here; this was as crucial a moment as the hour of battle. It was here, in this sabha, that he would win the hearts of his own kshatriyas; here that he would exorcise the specter of fear that Sanjaya, Drona and Bheeshma had raised among the Kurus. Hearing his son so assured, Dhritarashtra stopped trembling.

Duryodhana had not finished. “And then how can you be afraid, when you think of our own army? Only a coward would predict defeat for us after he has seen my legions.”

The Kaurava’s voice rose, “My lord, Bheeshma is with me! Bheeshma of the awesome vow, Bheeshma of the boon that death will come to him only when he summons it. Is Bheeshma just any man, that these Pandavas dare challenge us? He, by himself, can raze our cousins and their army. But we also have Drona! Was Drona born like an ordinary man? He is the Acharya of us all and he fights on our side. No sishya is greater than his guru, not even Arjuna.

Shall Aswatthama, born by Siva’s grace, whom many say is an amsa of the Lord, be conquered in battle? Can Acharya Kripa be defeated? No! These men could oppose the legions of Devaloka. Yet, even having such heroes with us, we seek to set fear among ourselves. I say to you, the Pandava army will not defeat us; but we will vanquish ourselves, before battle is even joined.”

Briefly, his face was dark. “Then, I have Karna with me. I know there are those in this sabha who differ, but Parasurama Bhargava said that Karna is his equal. My Pitama says Karna is not powerful, any more, because Indra came to him like a beggar and Karna gave the Deva his kavacha and kun-dala. But what Bheeshma does not know is that Karna had something from Indra in return; something he would not have taken, except for his love for me. Karna has Indra’s Shakti.”

A murmur arose in the sabha. Duryodhana cried, “And yet, like women, we let fear rule us? Listen to me, all of you, my loving friends. Let me name some of the warriors who will fight on our side and then decide if your hearts still quail at the thought of the Pandavas.

Hear their names: Bheeshma, who by himself would do for the enemy, Drona, Kripa, Aswat-thama, peerless Karna, Baahlika, Brihadratha, Bhagadatta, Shalya, Sala, Vinda, Anuvinda, Jayadratha, my hundred brothers led by my ferocious Dusasana, Shakuni and I myself. I have eleven aksauhinis against their seven. I ask you, should I spend sleepless nights, as Sanjaya wants, in terror that we shall be defeated, when my reason cries out that victory will be ours? No! I am no coward. I will not give in to the Pandavas. We will fight and I will win!”

There was some applause in the Kuru sabha, especially from those close to Duryodhana. Dhrit-arashtra sat much straighter in his throne and there was a proud smile on his lips to listen to his masterful son. Sensing the tide of opinion turn in his favor, Duryodhana pressed on.

“Why should I tremble at the decrepit Virata’s name, when the tameless Trigartas are with me? Susharma smashed Virata’s chariot and seized him. Susharma will crush the old Matsya again for me. Will Arjuna fight all the Trigartas by himself? Ah, my father, be at peace. Listen to your own counsel, as you always have, because you are wiser than those who presume to advise you. I tell you, I will win the war!”

Duryodhana went back to his place and sat down, amidst loud cheering from all the Kuru sabha, except Bheeshma, Drona, Sanjaya and a few others. Dhritarashtra’s fear had not left him entirely and the king said, “I have a last question for you, Sanjaya. Tell me, are the sons of Pandu as confident as my son? Are they prepared for war? Do they also feel that victory will be theirs?”

Sanjaya laughed. “They are better prepared than we are. Yet, they are not eager for bloodshed as your son is. Yudhishtira begged me to prevent the war if I could. Shall I tell you what the Pandava said?

‘Sanjaya, go back and say to Duryodhana, “Because of you, cousin, we have suffered in exile as you cannot begin to imagine. More than anything, it is what you did to Panchali that we cannot forgive. But you are our blood and we do not want war with you; I only want my kingdom back. Why, Duryodhana, even if you don’t give me back my kingdom, I still do not want this war. I shall be content with just five towns.

Give me Indraprastha, Vrikaprastha, Jayanta, Varanavrata and a fifth of your choosing and I will be satisfied. Why should we make war on each other? Let brothers live as brothers and fathers not be riven from their sons. The Kauravas and the Pandavas are one blood; let us live in peace. Cousin, for the sake of peace I will give up my kingdom. I have no wish to be the cause for eighteen aksauhinis slaughtering one another. But these five towns you must give me.”

Sanjaya, I have no secrets. Look over our forces if you wish and see what they are. But then, go back to Hastinapura and tell Bheeshma and Dhritarashtra that, if it is fought, this war shall be the end of the rule of the kshatriyas on earth, regardless of who wins or loses.’

So I went among those legions, I spoke to kshatriyas and common soldiers. I asked them who would be their Senapati and I learnt that it would most likely be Dhrishtadyumna. However, they have not decided yet and there is to be a council to make the choice.

But I did learn that their plans for war are carefully laid. They have even agreed among themselves which of them will kill which of us.”

Sinking swiftly back into fear, Dhritarashtra whispered, “How is that?”

“Shikhandi has chosen Bheeshma for himself.” The Pitama felt a tremor, as of fate. He saw Amba’s face before his eyes. Sanjaya knew the Pandavas’ plans well. “To keep his vow, Bheema will hunt Duryodhana and his brothers. Arjuna has marked Karna, Aswatthama and Jayadratha. The Kekaya brothers say they will kill their cousins who have joined Duryodhana. The Malavas and Salvas will confront the Trigartas. Abhimanyu, who bears both Arjuna’s and Krishna’s blood in his veins, has chosen the Kosala king Brihadbala and Duryodhana’s sons to be his prey. Dhrishtadyumna will stalk Drona, with the Pandavas’ sons to help him. The fire-born prince swears he will kill the Acharya and fulfil his destiny. Satyaki is furious with Kritavarman for joining Duryodhana and swears to kill him. Sahadeva means to keep his oath and have Shakuni’s life and Nakula Uluka’s.