THE MAHABHARATA: A Modern Rendering, Vol 2 (81 page)

The days that remain of the month of mourning see a deep change in Yudhishtira. He spends all his time with the rishis who have come to comfort him, enlighten him. Once he decides that he will become king in Hastinapura, day by day, the eldest Pandava appears to become more cheerful and stronger. It is as if he has left the dark past and the war behind and now looks forward eagerly to the future, even to kingship. He spends a lot of time alone with Krishna, mainly sharing silence with the Avatara; but at times, he asks his cousin a question, or his advice on anything he cares to. Serenity comes stealing over the Pandava. The war has ended and with it, enmity: that at least cannot be denied.

Then, the month is over and it is time to return to Hastinapura, time for a new king to sit on the Kuru throne. The sons of Pandu set aside their mourning cloths; they don silks and jewelry once more. They set out in a procession for the city of their fathers. Yudhishtira rides in a chariot yoked to sixteen resplendent white bullocks. Bheema has the reins, while Arjuna holds the shining white parasol, the sign of the king, over Yudhishtira. Nakula and Sahadeva stand on either side of their brother with the royal chamaras, the silver-handled whisks, in their hands.

Immediately behind Yudhishtira’s chariot, rides Dhritarashtra’s only surviving son: Yuyutsu, who was always loyal to the Pandavas. Krishna and Satyaki follow Yuyutsu in the Jaitra, with Daruka at the chariot-head. Behind them come the women of the entourage, Kunti, Draupadi and the others, in golden palanquins. The irresistible joy of the occasion is upon them all and, for the moment, grief has melted from their hearts like darkness at sunrise. The long night ends today. It is indeed a new dawn in their lives, one bought dearly. Fate herself will not allow their minds to be shadowed with sorrow on this most auspicious day. The Pandavas arrive at the gates of Hastinapura and, despite themselves, a great sense of destiny overwhelms the five brothers in the chariot; even, perhaps, a feeling that everything they have suffered is worth this moment.

The people of Hastina have turned out in crowds to welcome their princes of light. The streets are thronged to bursting, all the way from the city-gates to the palace. Despite the incalculable tragedy of the war, a fresh new spirit sweeps the city of elephants. A stagnant darkness seems to have lifted away from the ancient capital, overnight and despair banished. Hope spings green and exuberant in the hearts of the people and it seems the old ways of love will return to their lives, in triumph, with the sons of Pandu.

Earth and sky reverberate with Yudhishtira’s name and the names of his brothers and Yuyutsu, of Krishna and Satyaki and the queen Draupadi. Though it has taken many years and a dreadful war, though blood has flowed on Kurukshetra: finally dharma has prevailed and the people rejoice. A sea of loving hands reaches out to the new king and his brothers and they are healed by that multitudinous touch.

The gates, the streets, are decked out in a season of garlands. All along Yudhishtira’s progress, the sound of the Vedas hangs in the air, mingling with incense and the scents of flowers. It is a new spring come to the city and through avenues of white flags flapping in a celebrant breeze, the Pandavas are escorted to their palace with a thousand musicians, singers and dancers going before them. Truly, it is as if the earth blooms again in exhilaration, at the return of this king of dharma!

At the palace-gates, the brahmanas of Hastinapura receive Yudhishtira ceremonially with mantras and earthen lamps. Krishna leads his cousin into the sabha of the Kuru kings, where so many majestic sovereigns have been crowned, since time out of mind. Borne along by the tide of history and with the Dark One still leading him by the hand, Yudhishtira mounts the dais in that sabha and sits on the throne of his fathers, the throne covered in tiger-skins and called Sarvatobhadra. Now, Krishna’s eyes shine with rare tears. He had sworn that one day his good cousin would ascend this throne of the earth. Today, he has kept his word. Dharma has prevailed and rules the world again; at least, for the time being.

Two glittering, jeweled seats face Yudhishtira’s royal throne: places of honor, in which Krishna and Satyaki sit. Without them, the war could never have been won. There are two other golden thrones on either side of Yudhishtira. Here, Bheema and Arjuna sit. Beside them, are two beautiful ivory thrones; in one, Nakula sits and Kunti shares the second with her favorite child, Sahadeva. Draupadi is led in, solemnly and takes her place beside Yudhishtira. No memory touches her mind, today, of the time when she was last in this sabha. Dhritarashtra and Gandhari are there as well, in thrones of their own, with Vidura and Yuyutsu beside them.

Krishna calls for the sacred water, fetched from the holiest tirthas in Bharatavarsha. He fills his sea-conch, the Panchajanya, with that water and pours it over Yudhishtira with his own hands, in abhisekha. That done, Krishna takes the golden Kuru crown, glimmering with jewels given by the Devas—the crown Pururavas once wore and all the Paurava kings after him—and sets the hallowed thing on Yudhishtira’s head. As Krishna marks his cousin’s brow with the vermilion rajatilaka, cries of ‘Yudhishtira Chakravarti! Jaya! Jaya!’ ring out through that court. These cries are picked up by the oceanic crowd outside and the entire city resounds with the king’s name and soon, with his brothers’ names and his incarnate cousin’s.

The people’s chosen representatives approach the throne and greet Yudhishtira formally on his coronation. He thanks them, saying, “My friends, I am moved by the love with which all of you have blessed my brothers and me. I will do everything in my power to justify the faith you place in me and be a king of dharma to you. My uncle Dhritarashtra has been king all these years and I pray he will continue to be head of the Kuru household, while I serve him as best as I can with the help of my brothers.”

Yudhishtira gives away a thousand gold coins, each, to the brahmanas who performed the Vedic rituals at his coronation. Then, in court, he appoints his brothers to their various tasks. The king has more holy water fetched and pours it over Bheema, making him yuvaraja. Vidura is appointed the king’s Prime Minister and has charge of the defense of the realm. He will also be the king’s personal counselor. Sanjaya is given charge of the treasury and the finances of the land. Arjuna is named Senapati of the army, while Nakula is given charge of its recruitment and maintenance. Arjuna also has charge of relations with other kings and their kingdoms. Dhaumya retains his position as chief priest and guru to the king and his brothers. Yuyutsu is to administer the provinces of the kingdom and to see to the needs of his father Dhritarashtra. Finally, Yudhishtira turns to his youngest brother, Sahadeva, waiting patiently to be given his charge. Yudhishtira says, “And you, Sahadeva, shall be my protector. You will be at my side at all times.”

A radiant Krishna watches his cousin assume crisp control
¹
. Later, that evening, last rites for those that died in the war are performed in the palace: grave rituals. When they are over, Yudhishtira and his brothers come to Krishna, who has gone to Arjuna’s palace, even like a tiger entering his cave. Before all the people, Yudhishtira folds his hands to the Avatara and says, “My Lord, you have given me back my fathers’ kingdom. You shared our sorrow during the years of our exile and without you, we would never have won the war. Every time we faced a crisis, or an obstacle that seemed insurmountable, you showed us the way ahead.” His voice chokes. “Lord, for our sake, you who are the eternal Brahman assumed this human form. You were Arjuna’s sarathy during the war. I have only my bhakti to offer you, Krishna. This is just the beginning of our need for you. I beg you, remain with us always.”

Yudhishtira, emperor of the world, washes Krishna’s feet and sprinkles his own head with the water. He prostrates himself before the Avatara. Smiling, Krishna raises him up and then, one by one, the other Pandavas, as they also worship him with sasthanga namaskara, the prostration of eight limbs.

THREE
THE DYING PATRIARCH 

The next morning, with the sun, Yudhishtira comes to Krishna’s apartment. He finds his cousin pensive. The Pandava says, “Did you have a restful night, my Lord? But you seem disturbed, Krishna, are you unwell?”

Krishna smiles at him and shakes his head. He makes no reply immediately. Then, slowly, he says, “I was thinking of your Pitama Bheeshma. He will not live much longer, Yudhishtira and I hear him calling me. When Bheeshma dies, all his wisdom will vanish with him. We must go to him before that happens. You must learn whatever he has to teach you about your dharma as a king. Bheeshma’s wisdom is a priceless treasure. He must share it with you before he leaves us.”

Yudhishtira says, “Let us go at once, Krishna, together.”

Satyaki comes in just then. Krishna says to him, “Tell Daruka to prepare my chariot and you prepare to ride with us. We are going to Kurukshetra to see Bheeshma.”

They set out, Yudhishtira and his brothers, Satyaki and Krishna. Kurukshetra lies bare before them, now that its corpses have been removed and burned. It is difficult to believe, just days ago, the greatest of all wars was fought here. At the edge of the fateful field, like another sun setting over the earth, Bheeshma lies dying.

Krishna and the Pandavas alight from their chariots and make their way to the patriarch on his bed of arrows. Many mysterious munis, whom none of them has ever seen before, sit around Bheeshma, some silently in dhyana, others softly chanting arcane mantras that have all but passed out of the world. Krishna approaches the Kuru grandsire first and kneeling beside him, takes his hand. Bheeshma’s eyes flicker open; they are sea-like and full of pain. He sees Krishna at his side and Bheeshma’s eyes flare with light, his face is lit by a smile.

Krishna says, also smiling, “Oh, my lord, how do you bear such pain? Why, if a needle pricks me, I cannot stand it! Here you are with a hundred arrows lodged in your body and you have been lying on them for so long. There is no one like you in all the world, no one with such a mighty will, Devavrata. Not just a will, Bheeshma, but wisdom also. Brihaspati, Sukra, Vasishta and Markandeya were your gurus and you have always walked the way of dharma. Never in time has a greater man lived on this earth and none ever shall.

Your grandson Yudhishtira has been crowned king in Hastinapura; he has come to see you with his brothers. Now, more than ever, Yudhishtira has need of your wisdom. He is shaken by all the killing and dying he saw on Kurukshetra. He is full of sorrow and needs you to comfort him. It is just fifty-six days until uttarayana. When you die, all your wisdom will disappear from the world forever, unless you leave something of what you know with Yudhishtira. Your grandsons have come to you: tell them what you know about dharma, artha and yoga.”

Again, the smile touches Bheeshma’s face. With an effort, he begins to speak, “You are the Para-matman who pervades this universe: you tell me what I should do. I do not know how much longer I will live. This pain has robbed me of the count of time. I have discharged my debt to Satyavati. I can die in peace now. I am only waiting for Surya’s chariot to change its course in the sky.”

He pauses; then, another light is in his eyes. He takes Krishna’s hand and says, “My Lord, I want to see your Viswarupa before I die. Won’t you show yourself to me?”

“At the end of fifty-six days, when you leave your body, I will be at your side. But first, you have one final task left: you must pass your wisdom on to Yudhishtira.”

Bheeshma laughs. “Krishna, you mock me! How can I speak of dharma, artha or yoga when you are here with us: you who are the beginning and the end of all knowledge? Dare a sishya hold forth in his guru’s presence? And then, these arrows fill me with agony. I can hardly speak.”

“You are too modest, Bheeshma,” says Krishna. “You must teach Yudhishtira everything you know.”

“But I am so weak. I can hardly bear the pain I am in; to speak at any length would be impossible. Besides, my memory has faded and you want me to remember what I learnt when I was a boy. Forgive me, Krishna, but I don’t have the strength for this final task.”

The Avatara’s body shines. He speaks as softly as before, but there is unearthly authority in his voice. Krishna says, “I grant you a boon: from this moment, until you die, you will feel no pain. Your memory will be as clear as the heart of a rishi. Your mind will be sharp as a sword, Bheeshma, to sever any knot that binds Yudhishtira’s heart.”

It is told the sky showered down a petal-rain on Krishna and Bheeshma. A wave of relief floods Bheeshma, as all his pain vanishes. Krishna squeezes the Kuru ancient’s hand and then he rises, saying, “We will leave you to collect your thoughts. But we will return early tomorrow to hear your wisdom.”

That night is the first restful one Krishna has spent in a long time. He sleeps deeply, a dreamless slumber. Early next morning, he sends Satyaki to Yudhishtira. Soon, they are ready to set out again for Kurukshetra. An hour after dawn, the Pandavas and Krishna arrive on the field. Bheeshma lies on it like the rising sun. He has not felt a twinge of pain since Krishna blessed him and he too has spent a restful night.

Bheeshma feels detached from his body, free to range through the labyrinths of his days. The past is clear before him in all its fabulous richness; the book of his life is his to read from at will. Indeed, most of the night Bheeshma has leafed through that marvelous tome as he pleased. There is so much he sees plainly now, which was obscured before. Devavrata sees his life for the miracle it has been, every symphonious moment.