THE MAHABHARATA: A Modern Rendering, Vol 2 (9 page)

Kings of awesome power and wealth have ruled this earth, since the eldest days. Which of them escaped death? What wealth, power or enjoyment did they take with them to the next world? Nothing except their good deeds and their sins; and others enjoyed what once belonged to these kings, while fire consumed their bodies. Not their sons, friends or wives followed them into the next world, only their karma. Men should be careful, most of all, of what they do.

The rishis have likened life to a river and the soul, as well. The waters of the river of life are the senses; lust and rage are its crocodiles. Let restraint be the raft on which you cross over the waves of births and rebirths, to the shore of Salvation.

As for the soul’s river, virtue is its holy ablution, purifying it; truth is the water of virtue, self-control and relinquishment are its banks and compassion its currents. The man of dharma purifies himself in this river, washing away his desires; because the atman, the soul, is sacred.”

The night was alive with gentle Vidura’s wisdom. Visibly moved, Dhritarashtra said in a hush, “Vidura, tell me more of the atman. Tell me how, with this body, I can still meet the Eternal One. Tell me about death.”

Vidura said, “I am born a sudra, my lord. My knowledge is limited by my birth and I may not say more about these profound things. Yet, if you truly want answers, there is someone I can summon who will enlighten you.”

“Someone in Hastinapura?”

Vidura laughed softly. “No, my lord, someone from another world. Sanat-sujata, a mukta, a liberated muni.”

“You can summon him?”

“With bhakti all things are possible.”

Dhritarashtra pursed his lips; he breathed, “Call the holy one; tonight, I would be enlightened.”

Vidura sat on the floor in the posture of the lotus. He shut his eyes and spoke a quiet mantra. In a moment, the room filled with an exceptional light. Dhritarashtra could not see it, but he felt its subtle vibration. The light grew blinding, at its heart a tall figure materialized, whose white hair flowed down to his shoulders, whose eyes were pools of lambency.

Vidura prostrated himself at the apparition’s feet. Dhritarashtra was also intensely aware of his presence. The king rose and, helped by Vidura, knelt before Sanat-sujata. The rishi laid his hands on their heads, blessing them. Vidura said, “Swami, Dhritarashtra wanted to know about death and I could not answer him.”

The rishi asked, “What do you want to know, O king?”

“My lord, I have heard that the rishis say there is no death. Yet, even the Devas and Asuras take vows of celibacy to keep death away.”

“The wisest ones, who are truly free, say death is only ignorance. They say that where there is no ignorance, there is no death either. Death is not a beast that devours men. If a man’s heart is clear, death will not approach him. If desire and anger do not sway a man, he does not die. Death is a form of ignorance. If a man kills desire at its first stirring, he need not fear death. Death is a materialization of the wrath and greed that possess an embodied soul. The man of wisdom will not meet this demon.

Even as the body is destroyed when it dies, death itself is destroyed when faced with the light of knowledge.”

Dhritarashtra said, “What is the aim of tapasya, of mowna? How does one attain to mowna?”

“With quietude you reach the Brahman that is beyond language and its trammels. True mowna is the quiescence not only of speech, but of the senses and the mind. It is the consciousness of the Absolute. AUM is the Brahman: the gross, the subtle and the original. Mowna is when a soul gradually merges the gross in the subtle; and the subtle in the causal. And beyond the Bindu of the AUM, is the immaculate Brahman, eternal, unchanging.

Brahman is the ultimate attainment, after which there is no other. Brahman cannot be attained in a day, or a life, but through many, many lifetimes. Brahman cannot be attained without brahma-charya. By continence, a man becomes like a child, pure and free of passion. He triumphs over death. By good deeds, men attain only to the transient realms of Devaloka. When the punya of his deeds is exhausted, the man is born again into the mortal world. But the punya of ultimate knowledge is imperishable; with this, a man attains the everlasting Brahman.”

Dhritarashtra said, “They say that a wise man finds the Brahman in his own soul. What is the Brahman like, what is its color, its form?”

“Not on earth, or in the sky, not in the waters of the ocean is there anything like it. Not among the fathomless stars, in lightning, the clouds, or rain: nowhere is its form seen. You cannot see it in the akasa, not among the Devas, not in the sun or the moon. Not in the Rik, among the Yajus, the Athar-vas or, even, in the taintless Sama will you find it.

It cannot be fathomed, or known with the intellect. Why, even the cosmic Destroyer is destroyed by it, after the dissolution. It is smaller than atoms, invisible. It is everywhere and the basis of everything that exists. It is changeless, actless; yet, it is also all this visible, tangible universe. It is vast; it is full of bliss. All beings spring from it and to it they return. It is not twain, yet it is manifest as the universe. It is immanent, pervasive. Those who know say it never changes, but only the languages that describe it.

Ah, those who know That in which the universe is established, they are blessed indeed!” said Sanat-sujata. With a smile, the sage added, “So renounce your greed, O king. Follow the straight path of dharma and knowledge and freedom shall be yours.”

His palm raised in blessing over the brothers, the enlightened one vanished from Dhritarashtra’s chamber.

EIGHT
SANJAYA DELIVERS A MESSAGE 

The next morning, the Kauravas filed into the court of Hastinapura. Bheeshma and Dhritarashtra entered first and sat on their thrones. The blind king was haggard after the long night, already defeated before the first arrow was loosed or the first blade drew blood. When all the others were in their places, Sanjaya came in. The sabha settled quickly and Dhritarashtra asked, “Sanjaya, what message do you bring from my nephews in Upaplavya?”

Sanjaya rose, “Yudhishtira sends his greetings to you all. Listen to what transpired in the sabha into which I took your message. Hear what Krishna said and what Yudhishtira and Arjuna said after him.”

Sanjaya had been sent as a messenger also for a special gift he had: his prodigious memory. He launched into a vivid description of the council in Upaplavya and he remembered details that no other man would have. He described the clothes the different kings wore and, even, who was grim or who smiled and when. Not a word had he forgotten, not an inflection of tone or a flicker of expression in a speaker’s eye. The sabha in Hastinapura sat riveted while he spoke.

Sanjaya was fierce, when he came to what Arjuna said. “‘Tell Dhritarashtra’s son if he does not give up half the kingdom, he will see Bheema hunt his soldiers like Yama. Tell the foul-tongued suta-putra that he will die, when I meet him again on the battlefield. Tell him I cannot wait to cut his arrogant life short. Tell Duryodhana he will repent when he sees Satyaki take the field against him. Tell him Krishna will be my sarathy and no Kaurava will escape death.’“

Sanjaya concluded, “And Yudhishtira said finally that if Duryodhana will not give him back his kingdom, let him give just five towns. Let him return Indraprastha, Vrikaprastha, Jayanta, Varanavrata and any other village of his choice and Yudhishtira will disband his legions.”

Having finished, Sanjaya sat down amidst silence in that sabha. No one spoke for a time, then Bheeshma said in his deep, slow way, “Ah Duryodhana, are you intent on courting death? Don’t you see whom you have chosen to be your enemies? Arjuna and Krishna. The rishis all say they are Nara Narayana of old come to wash the earth in blood. They are invincible, my son. Listen to an old man; give up your obstinacy. Give back their kingdom to the Pandavas and be grateful that they won’t seek revenge.”

Duryodhana sat stiffly in his place, not a muscle moving. Bheeshma looked at his favorite grandson, with untold tenderness and anxiety in his old eyes. And he spoke not because he thought there was any hope of Duryodhana doing as he asked, but he felt it was his sacred duty to say, again, what was obvious.

The Pitama resumed, “They have dharma with them and if that is not enough, they have Krishna as well. Duryodhana, you will decide if there will be war. All the rest, Dhritarashtra, Dusasana, Karna, even Shakuni, will do as you say. I beg you, my child, even now it is not too late: return their kingdom to your cousins and let us have peace.”

Duryodhana was impassive. In despair, his grandsire cried, “Do you hope the vile, scheming Shakuni will win the war for you? Or your brother Dusasana, steeped in every vice known to man? No, you rely on Karna. How blind can you be? You hope a sutaputra can win a war against the noblest kshatriyas in the world. Have you forgotten he was cursed by his own guru for lying to him? How will he turn away Bhargava’s curse? And the brahmana on the seashore, whose cow he killed, cursed him. Your friend has already set himself on a course to death. Must you follow him, Duryo-dhana?

Or haven’t you heard that he has given away his kavacha and kundala to Indra? Without them, how will he stand before Indra’s son in battle? Duryodhana, as I love you, listen to me. You cannot win this war.”

Karna sprang to feet and cried, “Bheeshma, you cannot speak to me like this whenever you care to! Have I been disloyal to Duryodhana that you rebuke me? I may not be born one, but I am more of a kshatriya than most of you. My birth is not as important as my loyalty. And for you, Duryodhana, I will kill all the Pandavas by myself!”

Bheeshma would not deign to address Karna directly. He turned to Dhritarashtra and said, “For so many years, I have been listening to this fool bragging about how he will kill the Pandavas single-handedly. Yet, so far, it has only been great words, never deeds. Dhritarashtra, the sutaputra is not a sixteenth part the archer Arjuna is and I lay the blame squarely on him for the plight we are in today. He incited Duryodhana to humiliate the Pandavas in this sabha.

Duryodhana, depending on this braggart, you made enemies of your mighty cousins. What could Karna do against the gandharva in Dwaitavana? What did he do against Arjuna in Virata, even when we were all with him? Both times he was routed and he fled. But I see reproach in your eyes because I censure your friend. I feel so sorry for you, my child, but I fear you are past my help.”

Before his Pitama had finished, Duryodhana insultingly turned his face away from the patriarch; and that was always his way with anyone who said a word against Karna. The love between Duryodhana and Karna was not something that Bheeshma or anyone in Hastinapura understood. It was a thing of the soul, much like the love between Krishna and Arjuna: a sacred covenant, a relationship that transcended every other.

Lately, there was a lot of ill will against Karna in the Kuru sabha. The elders felt the suta’s son wielded too much influence in the kingdom. Bheeshma was the only one who spoke out openly against him. Duryodhana drifted farther and farther from his grandfather, assuming a remote, barely civil formality toward the old man who loved him so dearly.

Except for Duryodhana and his brothers, hardly anyone in Hastinapura cared for Karna. Dhritarashtra was careful to keep on his right side, but only because the king did not want to estrange his son. As for the rest, they disliked the brash sutaputra and resented the power he had. But they dare not cross him, for fear; and if anyone slighted Karna, it seemed that Duryodhana’s love for him only grew. He was as protective as a mother. Duryodhana felt the anguish Karna endured set him not only apart from, but also above the rest of mankind. He saw Karna as a suffering God. If there was anyone Duryodhana loved as dearly as he did himself, it was his brilliant, tormented friend.

An abrasive silence or an eyebrow sardonically arched were weapons the Kaurava used to effect. Now, with a sneer, he turned his face away from Bheeshma, as if everything the patriarch said was nonsense.

Drona rose to speak. “What Bheeshma says is true. The messages Krishna and Arjuna sent are not empty threats. If they say they will kill the Kauravas, they do not speak for the pleasure of hearing themselves brag. Arjuna is my sishya, I know what an archer he is. Then he was only a boy; now he is a man and a master of the devastras. He has Siva’s Paasupata. When I am told there is no kshatriya on earth like him, I believe what I hear.

The first lesson any warrior must learn is never to underestimate his enemy; there is nothing more foolish. Yet, this sabha is doing just that. Duryodhana, Karna, you are like children that have no notion of who they are going to war against. Make peace with the Pandavas. If there is a war, I, Drona, tell you that you will not win.”

Dhritarashtra grew more restive than ever. When nobody else spoke after Drona sat down, the king turned his face toward Sanjaya and said, “Sanjaya, tell us about the army the Pandavas have gathered in Upaplavya.”

Sanjaya rose again and he let his mind wander back to the force he had seen outside that city. Suddenly, with eerie intensity, he saw multitudinous legions around him. He felt he was back in Upa-plavya. He heard the awesome noise of a million voices speaking at once. He saw the glitter of weapons, the gleam of mail. He smelt the living bodies of a million fierce men. He saw the grim faces of the kshatriyas who led them. All this swept over Sanjaya in a moment and as if fate laid its hand on him, his eyes rolled up and he fainted.