THE MAHABHARATA: A Modern Rendering, Vol 2 (11 page)

My lord, they are well prepared for war. The thirteen years of exile have strengthened their bodies and spirits, while your sons have lived in luxury’s soft lap. The Pandavas have no doubt that, since dharma and Krishna are both with them, victory also shall be theirs.”

Once more, cold terror gripped Dhritarashtra. His voice unsteady, he said, “You are right, Sanjaya. We shall all die if we don’t give Yudhishtira back his kingdom.”

Duryodhana cried angrily, “My lord, how can you let fear move you so easily? It is the only way we can lose this war and that is exactly what the Pandavas intend: to frighten you with their cunning talk of peace and dharma. Can’t you see they are afraid? Here they are, agreeing to settle for just five towns and you speak of us losing the war to them!”

But after last night’s encounter with Vidura and Sanat-sujata, Dhritarashtra was not convinced by his son. Weak with fear, he said, “War is a great evil, as Yudhishtira says. How can we think of sacrificing so many lives for our selfishness, our greed? It is not dharma that we keep a kingdom that belongs to Pandu’s sons. Duryodhana, listen to me, I speak from love. Neither you nor I will profit from keeping what is not ours. Turn away from evil, it is still not too late. The world will praise us and we shall have our honor back.

It is harder to seek peace at this stage, I know. But just think, Duryodhana, all these kings gathered here, who have come with their armies because they love you: in their hearts, they would much rather not fight this war. If you make peace with the sons of Pandu, every one of these kshatriyas will bless you.

Duryodhana sprang up and cried furiously, “Very well! None of these kings need stay and fight for me. Let them all leave and take their legions with them. No one here need fight for me. I have Dusasana and I have Karna. The three of us are enough to demolish the Pandava army!

Hear me clearly, my lord, all of you: I will never return their kingdom to the Pandavas, not all of it, not five towns, not five villages. Why, I will not give them land to cover the point of a needle! I have heard enough craven talk of peace. I want no peace with them. I want war. I have always wanted war with my cousins. I want to see them dead!”

Silence fell on the sabha. In a lower voice, Duryodhana went on, “Of course, Yudhishtira wants peace, but not for any reason of dharma, as he makes out; he wants peace because he is afraid. He begs me for just five towns. I can easily give him what he asks. But if I give him even a speck of earth, I would be admitting that he is right and I am wrong.

Once, I used to admire Yudhishtira. I thought he was wise, that he was brave and noble. Now he sends word begging five towns to escape fighting a war. Yudhishtira, who was lord of the earth! Exile has broken his spirit, if he ever had any. These Pandavas are cowards and I do not respect them any more. They are not fit to rule one village, let alone five towns, or a kingdom. I will give them nothing, except battle!”

Vidura rose and said, “Do you believe Yudhishtira is a fool, because he is gentle? Haven’t you noticed for which towns he has asked? He doesn’t for a moment believe you will give him what he asks. He knows you will refuse and there will be war. But by naming just these towns, he is reminding you and the wise men of this sabha, of the trail of the Pandavas’ suffering.

Vrikaprastha, first: Pramanakoti where, Duryodhana, you poisoned Bheema and pushed him into the river. Varanavrata, where you had Purochana build the house of lac. Indraprastha, the wasteland you gave them, Dhritarashtra, as their patrimony. Jayanta: Duryodhana, you have not forgotten the sabha you built in envy of the Mayaa sabha, after you came home from the Rajasuya; the sabha that was your pretext for calling the Pandavas to Hastinapura for the game of dice.

The trail that led to exile; are you so dull that you can’t see what Yudhishtira is saying to you? He says, ‘After all you have made us suffer, you say I must be patient. Who is there as patient as I am? But now, the fifth town I leave to your choice. If you do not give me Indraprastha, I shall take Hastinapura. If you don’t give me back my kingdom, we will have war.’“

Dhritarashtra breathed, “He is not afraid, but angry! Arjuna befriended Agni Deva when the Khandava vana burned. The God of fire will help the Pandavas against us. Arjuna fought his father Indra for Agni’s sake and now Agni will burn the Kauravas to repay his debt.

Have we all lost our wits that we forget who these sons of my brother Pandu truly are? They are no blood of ours, but Devaputras! Won’t Dharma, Indra, Vayu and the Aswins help their natural sons? They are Gods; how will we resist them? Why, Varuna has already given Arjuna the Gandiva.”

Dhritarashtra was beside himself, almost raving. “When Bheema met his brother on the mountain, Hanuman swore he would sit on Arjuna’s banner. The Gods are with the Pandavas and we are on the side of darkness. We have no hope of winning this war; my sons will all die. No! We do not want this war with the Pandavas. We must give back his kingdom to Yudhishtira.”

Duryodhana was on his feet, roaring, “Father! How can you be so sure the Devas are with the Pandavas? The Gods are indifferent to our petty quarrels. They have no attachments or enmities in earthly affairs; we are too far beneath them. If Indra, Vayu, Dharma and the Aswins were concerned about their sons, would they have waited before avenging them? Thirteen years is a long time.

Perhaps, as you say, they have dharma with them. But shall we fear them just for that? Dharma is with me, as well. I have been a good king, our people will tell you as much. The rains fall in season over our kingdom and my subjects are not poor or unhappy. Ask my friends, they will tell you I am loyal and loving. How can the Gods judge a king like me harshly? No Deva is against us, be certain that we shall win this war.”

With that and sudden tears stinging his eyes, Duryodhana walked out of his father’s court. The next moment, Karna was up and had followed his friend. Then, in a show of solidarity, the other kings and princes all stood up, as a man and went after the Kaurava. Slowly, Bheeshma and Drona also left. Dhritarashtra was left alone with Sanjaya. The king sat in his throne, sobbing.

TEN
A SECOND COUNCIL IN UPAPLAVYA 

Meanwhile, some days after Sanjaya left, Yudhishtira called another council in Upaplavya. He said to Krishna in that sabha, “You heard Dhritarashtra’s message, my Lord. My uncle does not intend to return my kingdom to me. The man who should be as a father to us is like a thief instead. I fear there will be war. How else do two kshatriyas resolve their enmity? Will you go to Hastinapura, Krishna? To sue, one last time, for peace.”

Krishna said quietly, “I will. And if I can achieve the impossible and make peace between the Pandavas and the Kauravas, why, my fame will live forever. No one shall be more pleased than I if the kings of the earth give up their hubris and save themselves from death.”

Yudhishtira had a second thought, “Duryodhana cannot be trusted, there is no telling what he may do. And if anything were to happen to you, Krishna…”

Krishna smiled. “Yes, they may try to harm me: Duryodhana, his brothers and their uncle Shakuni. Men like these will stoop to anything. And if they do, Yudhishtira, I will save you the trouble of a war. I will kill them all.”

He said this so simply and somehow no one doubted he would do as he said. Krishna continued, “Don’t fear for me, I am in no danger; though I feel sure my mission will be in vain. We all heard Dhritarashtra’s message; he does not want peace, perhaps because Duryodhana gives him no choice in the matter. Dhritarashtra is a coward, left to himself he would not fight; but his son would rather die than see you back on the throne of Indraprastha.

But you are a kshatriya, Yudhishtira. How can you ask for peace after you heard Dhritarashtra’s message? How can you still have feelings for these monsters? Or think of them as your relatives? They have never requited the love you have for them. They are not your blood, who treat you with such hatred and contempt. A kshatriya has no kinsmen, Yudhishtira, only friends and enemies. These are your enemies. Not for a moment have they thought of you as a nephew or a cousin, not the elders of Hastinapura. I say they deserve death for what they have done.

The court of Hastinapura is a nest of serpents. It needs to be burned with fire. In that city today you have just the hollow name of Kuru; the rest is an illusion. The one you so fondly call your grandfather, Bheeshma, won’t he be the first to face you in war? What Pitama is he to you? He will fight for Duryodhana.”

Krishna saw the sadness in his cousin’s face and he shook his head and sighed. “Ah, Yudhishtira, I can’t fathom you. What weakness or strength makes you reach out again to these sinners with an offer of peace? For myself, I will tell you why I am going to Hastinapura. It is not that I believe there is any possibility of peace. No. I am going to tell the people of that city and the kings who have allied themselves to Duryodhana, about you. I want the world to realize how noble you are and how vile Duryo-dhana and his blind father.

Let the people know that you will accept peace, if they give you even five towns. Let them know how arrogant Duryodhana is that he will not give you even these. I am going to Hastinapura so the truth may be preserved in the hearts of common men. Dhritarashtra and Duryodhana will never tell their people the truth of what happened between the Kauravas and the Pandavas. Already the blind one seeks to make a villain of you with the message he sent through Sanjaya.

While I am away, cousin, prepare for war. And let war begin as soon as I return.”

Yudhishtira bent his head and said, “I leave our lives in your hands, Krishna. You always know what is best for us.”

“I see omens of war everywhere I turn. The birds of night are awake all day, as if in terror and those of day sing at midnight. Wolves come out of their forests and howl at the cities of men. Elephants and horses run from jungle to jungle, in strange panic, as if seeking a sanctuary that exists nowhere on earth any more. Let us not deceive ourselves. There will surely be war and we must be prepared for it.”

There was a brief silence, while every king in that sabha was so absorbed in his own thoughts that no one noticed Bheema squirming in his place. Suddenly, the son of the wind said, “Krishna, I will be happy if you can make peace between the Pandavas and the Kauravas. We do not want the sin of killing our cousins on our conscience. Don’t try and frighten Duryodhana by saying how powerful we are. He is proud and obstinate; he will not be intimidated. But gentler persuasion may succeed.

I agree with Yudhishtira that we must do everything in our power to have peace. Otherwise, a hundred kings will die, thousands of kshatriyas and countless common soldiers. Think of their wives and children; war is a calamity that we must avert if we possibly can. Arjuna, I am sure you understand what I mean and you agree with me.”

All that council, especially Bheema’s brothers, stared at him in amazement. Then, Krishna began to laugh, golden laughter ringing through the morning. He cried, “Bheema! Are you really saying this? You want peace? Until last night, we heard of nothing but the war from you, how long you had waited for it. You told us how you would tear out Dusasana’s heart and smash Duryodhana’s thigh. You said you had not slept properly these last thirteen years, for the shame you had to swallow. Some of us have seen you wriggling like an angry serpent in Yudhishtira’s grasp. We have seen you sit apart from your brothers in the jungle, as if you carried an insupportable burden.

I heard people say that Bheema had gone mad in his frustration. You sat alone, smoldering like a fire covered with ashes, your brow knit, talking to yourself, your hands sweating as you clenched and unclenched them. Then you would jump up with a growl, pull up a tree, dash it on the ground and begin to cry and laugh at once. You would shout, ‘The lotus may bloom on the peak of ice, the sun may rise in the west; but I will keep my vow. I will break Duryodhana’s thigh where he dared call Panchali to sit!’

You would brandish your mace and roar so the forest echoed with your wrath. Is this the same Bheema, who is faint-hearted as a woman today at the very thought of war? Who begs me to go and sue the Kauravas for peace, because he balks at the thought of blood? Ah, Bheema, you are the raft on which your brothers will cross over the sea of misfortune. But if you turn coward, I dread to think what will become of the others.”

Krishna saw his words went home. He saw Bheema’s eyes become red as plums at the word coward. It was as Krishna intended; it would never do if Bheema became soft at this time.

The Dark One continued, “Think back, Bheema! Remember the shame of the game of dice; remember the long anguish of exile. Remember you are a kshatriya and the men you have sworn to kill are sinners. Put aside this womanliness; harden your heart against these affections.

Peace! You talk of peace, you whom peace does not suit at all. You are a kshatriya, Bheema, every fiber of you. What peace can be yours, until you kill them all? What has happened to you that you are afraid now?”

Bheema sprang up and cried, “You wrong me, Krishna! How can you accuse me of being a coward? When the war begins you will see if Bheema is afraid. Not Indra himself will save Duryodhana and his brothers, when these hands lay hold of them. Look at my hands, Krishna! Aren’t they made just for war? Look at this body!”

He was trembling. “Wild elephants shall not stand before Bheema when he takes the field with his mace! I only pitied those who would face me in battle, their families whom I will bereave. And you call me a coward?” He smote his chest and roared, so the sabha shook. “Bheema is no coward, Krishna! Never! Never!”