THE MAHABHARATA: A Modern Rendering, Vol 2 (80 page)

Seeing the Pandavas’ mourn, the women on the riverbank set up a fresh lament. When he has finished offering tarpana and pinda to dead Karna, Yudhishtira raises his voice above the women’s wailing and curses womankind, “It is because my mother kept her secret so well that we killed our brother. May no woman ever be able to keep a secret again!”

Slowly, they come out of the whispering Ganga and make their way back to the camp. The Pandavas walk at the head of the procession. The women follow them, still crying and a few paces behind the women, Krishna and Satyaki bring up the rear.

BOOKS TWELVE AND THIRTEEN
SHANTI PARVA & ANUSASANA PARVA
1 

AUM, I bow down to Narayana, the most exalted Nara and to the Devi Saraswathi and say
Jaya
!

ONE
YUDHISHTIRA’S GRIEF. 

The month prescribed for mourning the dead has to pass before the Pandavas can enter Hastinapura and Yudhishtira can be crowned king in that city. The sons of Pandu settle in tents on the banks of the lotus-flowing Ganga. Every day, elaborate rituals are performed for the peace of those that have died.

Vyasa, Narada, Kanva and other munis arrive in the Pandava camp, to meet the man who will be emperor of Bharatavarsha. They find Yudhishtira plunged in despair. He hardly speaks, but sits brooding darkly, at times sobbing when grief overpowers him.

One day Narada says to him, “Put away this sorrow, my son. By Krishna’s grace and the valor of your brothers and the Panchalas, you have conquered the world. No war is won cheaply. You should be pleased that your enemies are vanquished and victory is yours.”

At once Yudhishtira’s eyes fill and he says, “My lord, I am not destined to know happiness. What you say is true: by Krishna’s grace and my brothers’ valor we have victory. But ah, Muni, victory at what price? How many we loved like life perished in this war. What does it matter who wins or loses such a war? The only truth is that we fought and millions died. This is the end of the world, as we knew it. The war wasn’t fought with dharma: not by our enemies and not by us.”

He pauses and tears roll down his face. The knowing Narada asks, “Is this all that is troubling you?

“No, my lord! Even this much I could somehow bear. What torments me more than anything else is that Karna was our brother and we killed him like our worst enemy. How can I ever hope to be happy again? Although we did not know the truth, how could we do this terrible thing? Karna knew who he was before the war began. Krishna and my mother begged him to join us. They offered him the throne of the world, which was properly his, not mine. He refused them: he would not betray Duryodhana. Once he knew the truth, no one would have censured my brother if he had abandoned our cousin, not even Duryodhana. But Karna would rather die than forsake his friend.

That was our brother. And what did we do to him? We mocked him, whenever we could, calling him sutaputra and finally we killed him. We cut him down when he was trying to lift his chariot-wheel from the mire. I cannot live with this sin. Not even when Arjuna’s arrow was aimed at his throat did he cry out, ‘Don’t kill me, Arjuna, I am your brother!’ And how I rejoiced when Arjuna cut Karna’s head from his body.”

Yudhishtira chokes and cannot go on. Then, remembering something else, he resumes, “I will never forget that day in Hastinapura, when I lost everything. Karna was there and he was taunting us even more than our cousins did. I stood with my head hung, but my heart blazed to hear him. Then my eyes fell on Karna’s feet. I can hardly describe what happened to me at that moment. His feet were so familiar. I was astonished, for they were my mother’s very feet! Looking at them calmed me. I felt at such peace just looking at the feet of this enemy who reviled us in the Kuru sabha. Of course, at that time even he did not know who he was.

I never forgot that experience. Even when we were in exile in the forest, I would lie awake at nights thinking of how strange it was that Karna’s feet were exactly like my mother’s. Today, I know why they were so alike and I feel my heart will break in a thousand pieces. You say I should be happy we have won the war. But how can I be happy after killing my own brother and a brother as noble as great, great Karna?”

Again, he sits silent, his tears flowing. Yudhishtira shakes his head in a sorrow he can neither bear nor cure. In a moment, he goes on, speaking almost to himself, “Muni, when my mother went to Karna before the war began, he said he would grant her a boon. Not that she asked him for anything after he refused to join us; but he said he must give her something, because she was his mother whom he had found after so many years. The boon he gave her was that he would not kill any of her sons in battle, except Arjuna.

Now we know why he did not kill the four of us, when he had each of us at his mercy. He only prodded us with his bow, as if he was blessing us! As for Arjuna: how could Karna kill Arjuna, when he knew who he was? And how could he not at least try, for Duryodhana’s sake? But knowing his heart now, I am convinced that Karna did not kill Arjuna because he was his brother.

And what did Arjuna do? He cut off Karna’s head when he was defenseless. Who was responsible? I, of course! I can never forgive myself for making one brother of mine kill another. The soul knows all things. Deep in my heart I must have known the truth, or at least suspected it. I am the worst sinner on earth.”

He grows thoughtful and says, “Narada, one thing perplexes me. After my brother was killed, we all saw the place where his chariot was mired. The earth was not soft where Karna died. It seems fate plunged his wheel into the ground so Arjuna could kill him. Also, at that final moment, Arjuna tells me he thought Karna had forgotten the mantras for the astras and could summon one only with an inordinate effort.”

Narada tells Yudhishtira about the two curses Karna received: one from Bhargava and the other from the brahmana whose cow he killed. The rishi says, “But for those curses and that Indra took his kavacha and kundala, Karna could never have been killed. He was the greatest kshatriya on earth. Listen to the story of his life and his suffering, if you will.”

In that camp beside the golden Ganga, Narada tells them about Karna’s life: of its anguish and the curse he was born with that he must suffer until the day he died. Hearing about that sad, heroic life, their eldest brother’s life, chastens the sons of Pandu. They know that their own ordeals do not account for a tenth of what Karna had endured: and always alone.

Just listening to Karna’s tragic story calms the Pandavas. It makes Yudhishtira forget his own sorrow, when he realizes that from the first day his brother was marked by fate for its fiercest trials. Karna had survived them all and covered himself in glory in his lonely battle against time. He had not been beaten; he had triumphed. Finally, he had achieved the one prize he valued more than any other: immortal fame.

Yudhishtira realizes the wound in his heart for his dead brother will never heal. But hearing Karna’s life from Narada, the Pandava feels that if Karna could have endured all that he did by himself, surely, he, Yudhishtira, can bear the anguish of losing him. At least, he has his other brothers and Krishna, with whom he can share his pain.

Kunti tells Yudhishtira, “You mustn’t grieve like this for Karna. It is not as if both Surya Deva and I did not tell him who he was.”

Yudhishtira accepts this; but the kingdom is a different matter. Yudhishtira wants no part, any more, of ruling a kingdom. He says, “We should have been content to live begging alms. What good has this war done any of us? It has destroyed the Kauravas and the Pandavas as well. A man can atone for his sins by confession, by charity and by penance. I mean to live in the jungle, in tapasya. Arjuna, I leave you this hard-won earth. I have no use for it any more.”

Shocked, Arjuna says, “Why did you bother to fight a war, if you were going to abandon everything we fought for? It was a dharma yuddha we fought; millions laid down their lives for you. Was all that sacrifice just for you to roam the world with a begging-bowl? You could have done that without the war. If you don’t do your dharma as a kshatriya king, you will mock those that died for you and we shall have their curses on our heads. Yudhishtira, the path you want to tread is for brahmanas, not us.

How can you even think of renouncing this kingdom won with so much blood? Remember what it is of which you make so light: the throne upon which Dilipa, Nriga, Nahusha, Ambarisa and Mandhata sat. You must not relinquish the earth now, but guide all our destinies. This is no time for you to live in a jungle, but a time for you to perform an Aswamedha yagna!” cries Arjuna passionately.

His brother replies, “Hear me clearly, Arjuna. I mean to live in the forest on fruit and roots, wearing deerskin and tree-bark and with my hair matted in jata. Nothing will induce me to leave the path of penance I have chosen.”

Turn by turn, Bheema, Arjuna, Sahadeva and Nakula come to their brother, to persuade him
¹
. He is adamant and will not change his mind. One day, Draupadi goes to him in his grief.

She says, “My lord, your brothers come to you again and again, like chataka birds and beg you to take the Kuru throne. Listen to them. They have suffered so much for your sake. They have fought heroically for you; they have lost their sons to the war. Do you remember, when we were in exile, you would always comfort them saying that when the time came you would defeat the Kauravas and rule from Hastinapura? Your time has come, Yudhishtira, don’t refuse your brothers what they ask.”

Yudhishtira hardly answers her. Vyasa, Narada, Kanva and the other munis try to talk the eldest Pandava out of his despondency. They are full of legends from the past; they tell him about his ancestors who once sat upon the same throne he is now being offered. But he is obdurate.

Arjuna comes in despair to Krishna and says, “My Lord, you are the only one to whom he might listen. Speak to him, or all we have done will have been in vain.”

Krishna replies, “I believe Vyasa Muni is with him even now. I think what he says will see some change.”

Vyasa is saying to Yudhishtira, “My child, a king has no right to indulge his own grief. A just king’s time has always belonged to his people and only to them. He is like a God to them and their lives are his sole concern. A king has no wives, sons or brothers, Yudhishtira, only his people whom he rules. That is the truth and the deepest meaning of his life, to the exclusion of everything else. For the king, the people are his dharma, his prana, his God. His task is just to rule them; beyond that, he has no other truth, or life. Your dharma is to assume kingship in Hastinapura. Your people are waiting for you like children. They put all their faith in you, you must be a father to them.”

For the first time, Yudhishtira seems moved. This is an argument that appeals powerfully to his nature, one he cannot resist. There is light on his grim face again, light breaks in his eyes. With a wry smile, he says, “I fear you are right, Muni. I have been selfish and indulged myself and you have cleared my mind. I walked alone through a dark place, but I have come out from it now. I feel the sun on my face again and hear my destiny calling me. I will go back to Hastinapura and be king. I beg you, tell me about the dharma of a king. I would be as just a king as the Kuru sires were. Teach me the wisdom of kings, before I sit upon that hallowed throne.”

Vyasa laughs, “I am hardly the one to tell you about kingship! I have never sat upon a throne, nor do I know anything about the affairs of state. But there is someone else you might ask for guidance. Indeed, no one on earth is better suited than him, both by his experience and by his love, to advise you on the dharma of kings.”

“Who is he, Swami?”

“Your Pitama Bheeshma, who lies on his bed of arrows as if he still has something left to accomplish in this world.”

Vyasa sees the Pandava gives a start and a shadow crosses his face. The rishi continues, “The first sixteen years of his life, his mother Ganga raised him to be a king who would grace the noblest throne in the world. Devavrata was to have succeeded his father Shantanu. Brihaspati and Sukracharya taught him in Devaloka and he has no equal in political wisdom. Rama’s guru, Vasishta, taught him the Vedas and the Vedangas. Markandeya taught him the rigors of renunciation; he taught him the final secret that lies beyond the veil of death. Yudhishtira, the time has come for you to go to your Pitama. He will be happy to see you and happier to teach you everything he knows.”

Yudhishtira says, “How can I go before Bheeshma, when I have killed my cousins?”

Vyasa laughs. “Do you think your Pitama doesn’t know that fate and not you, was the cause of everything that happened? He hardly interfered in the attrition between your cousins and yourselves; he knew it was no use trying to oppose destiny: what was written must take its course. An awesome task is before you, Yudhishtira, you will have need of Bheeshma’s wisdom.”

Krishna arrives there then with Arjuna and Vyasa says, “Yudhishtira has decided to go to Hastinapura and be crowned king of the Kurus.”

Krishna and Arjuna embrace Yudhishtira and he himself smiles like a man who has woken from a nightmare to find sunlight in the world.

TWO
A NEW KING IN HASTINAPURA