The Mahabharata (13 page)

M
EANWHILE
, news reached Dhritarashtra through his spies of the movements and achievements of the Pandavas, particularly of Arjuna's additions to his arsenal. Dhritarashtra was, as usual, torn between avuncular sentiments and a desire to preserve himself and his sons. He went off into speculations on what to do, and as usual fell into total confusion. Duryodhana watched his father's reactions with uneasiness and said, “The King cannot forget his nephews; he is obsessed with thoughts of them. Now that we know where they are, why should we not act swiftly and end this nuisance once and for all?”

“That may not prove so easy,” said Sakuni. “Arjuna has acquired extraordinary powers and, fired by a sense of revenge, the Pandavas may prove formidable. However, they have still over a year to remain in exile. Yudhistira will not go back on his word, even if the King grows soft and invites
them to return home. But you may do one thing. They are now in Kamyaka looking like wandering tribes, clad in animal hide and rolling in dust. Why don't you go up and exhibit yourself in your fullest royal splendour? You are the lord of the world today, enjoying unlimited wealth, power, and authority. It is said that there could be nothing more gratifying than showing off one's superiority before an enemy reduced to beggary. Why don't you establish a royal camp in the vicinity of the Kamyaka Forest, and we will see that they come up before you in their rags to be admitted grudgingly by the gatekeepers?”

On the excuse of having to inspect the cattle grazing on their frontiers, Duryodhana got Dhritarashtra's permission to establish a camp in the vicinity of Kamyaka. The camp was a regal one with hundreds of courtesans, attendants, soldiers, and courtiers. Feasts, dances, music, and entertainment of every kind went on noisily night and day. The whole area was transformed with colourful illuminations and fireworks.

Duryodhana and his accomplices had arrived at the camp in splendid armour and military equipment, in dazzling style. They hoped that the Pandavas would notice the brilliance and gaiety of the camp across the river from Kamyaka. Duryodhana tried to send a messenger to summon the Pandavas before him, but the messenger was denied passage across the river by a watchman, a gandharva sent down by the gods to create a crisis. After heated arguments and protests, a scuffle ensued. Others gradually got involved in the affair.

Starting thus, imperceptibly, a full-fledged fight developed between the armies of the gandharvas and Duryodhana. At the end of the skirmish, after his soldiers had been killed, Duryodhana was taken prisoner with his allies and bound in chains.

Learning of this incident, and of Karna's flight from it, Yudhistira dispatched Bhima and Arjuna to rescue Duryodhana: “After all, they are our brothers, and whatever might
be the conflict between us, we cannot abandon them now.”

Bhima and Arjuna went into action, and were able to free the prisoners from the gandharvas, who had been instructed by Indra himself to undertake this expedition and teach Duryodhana a lesson. Duryodhana thanked the Pandavas for their help, wound up his camp, and went back to Hastinapura, sadder and wiser. The Pandavas returned to Dwaitavana.

The Pandavas were in a hopeful mood when they came back to their original starting point, Dwaitavana, after their prolonged pilgrimage. Dwaitavana was rich in fruits and roots, and the Pandavas lived on sparse diets, performing austerities and practising rigid vows.

They managed to live, on the whole, a tranquil life—until one day a brahmin arrived in a state of great agitation. He had lost a churning staff and two faggots of a special kind, with which he produced the fire needed for his religious activities. All his hours were normally spent in the performance of rites. But that day, he wailed, “A deer of extraordinary size, with its antlers spreading out like the branches of a tree, dashed in unexpectedly, lowered its head, and stuck the staff and the faggots in its horns, turned round, and vanished before I could understand what was happening. I want your help to recover those articles of prayer, for without them I will not be able to perform my daily rites. You can see its hoof marks on the ground and follow them.”

As a kshatriya, Yudhistira felt it his duty to help the brahmin, so with his brothers, he set out to chase the deer. They followed its hoof marks and eventually spotted it, after a long chase. But when they shot their arrows, the deer sprang away, tempted them to follow it here and there, and suddenly vanished without a trace. They were by this time drawn far into the forest and, feeling fatigued and thirsty, they sat under a tree to rest.

Yudhistira told his youngest brother, Nakula, “Climb this tree and look for any sign of water nearby.”

Presently, Nakula cried from the top of the tree, “I see some green patches and also hear the cries of cranes… must be a water source.” He came down and proceeded towards a crystal-clear pond, sapphire-like, reflecting the sky. He fell down on his knees and splashed the water on his face. As he did this, a loud voice, which seemed to come from a crane standing in the water, cried, “Stop! This pond is mine. Don't touch it until you answer my questions. After answering, drink or take away as much water as you like.” Nakula's thirst was so searing that he could not wait. He bent down and, cupping his palms, raised the water to his lips. He immediately collapsed, and lay, to all purposes, dead.

After a while, Yudhistira sent his brother, Sahadeva, to see what was delaying Nakula's return. He too rushed forward eagerly at the sight of the blue pond, heard the warning, tasted the water, and fell dead.

Arjuna followed. On hearing the voice, he lifted his bow, shot an arrow in the direction of the voice, and approached the water's edge. The voice said, “Don't be foolhardy. Answer me first before you touch the water.”

Arjuna, surveying with shock and sadness the bodies of his younger brothers, replied, “When you are silenced with my arrows, you will cease to question….” Driven to desperation with thirst and enraged at the spectacle of his dead brothers, he sent a rain of arrows in all directions. As the voice continued to warn, “Don't touch,” he stooped and took the water to his lips and fell dead.

Next came Bhima. He saw his brothers lying dead, and swung his mace and cried back when he heard the voice, “O evil power, whoever you may be, I will put an end to you presently, but let me first get rid of this deadly thirst….” Turning a deaf ear to the warning, he took the water in the cup of his palm and with the first sip fell dead, the mace rolling away at his side.

Yudhistira himself presently arrived, passing through the forest where no human being had set foot before except his brothers. He was struck by the beauty of the surroundings—enormous woods, resonant with the cry of birds, the occasional grunt of a bear, or the light tread of a deer on dry leaves—and then he came upon the magnificent lake, looking as if made by heavenly hands. There on its bank he saw his brothers.

He wept and lamented aloud. Both the poignancy and the mystery of it tormented him. He saw Arjuna's bow and Bhima's mace lying on the ground, and reflected, “Where is your promise to split Duryodhana's thigh? What was the meaning of the gods' statement at Arjuna's birth that no one could vanquish him?” How was he to explain this calamity to Kunthi?

A little later he said to himself, “This is no ordinary death. I see no marks of injury on any of them. What is behind it all?” Could it be that Duryodhana had pursued them, and had his agents at work? He observed the dead faces; they bore no discolouration or sign of decay. He realised that his brothers could not have been killed by mortals, and concluded that there must be some higher power responsible. Resolving not to act hastily, he considered all the possibilities, and stepped into the lake to perform the rites for the dead.

The voice now said, “Don't act rashly; answer my questions first and then drink and take away as much water as you like. If you disregard me, you will be the fifth corpse here. I am responsible for the deaths of all these brothers of yours; this lake is mine and whoever ignores my voice will die. Take care!”

Yudhistira said humbly, “What god are you to have vanquished these invincible brothers of mine, gifted and endowed with inordinate strength and courage? Your feat is great and I bow to you in homage, but please explain who you are and why you have slain these innocent slakers of
thirst? I do not understand your purpose, my mind is agitated and curious. Please tell me who you are.”

At this request he saw an immense figure materialising beside the lake, towering over the surroundings. “I am a yaksha. These brothers of yours, though warned, tried to force their way in and have paid for it with their lives. If you wish to live, don't drink this water before you answer my questions.”

Yudhistira answered humbly, “O yaksha, I will not covet what is yours. I will not touch this water without your sanction, in spite of my thirst. I will answer your questions as well as I can.”

The yaksha asked, “What makes the sun rise?… What causes him to set?”

Yudhistira answered, “The Creator Brahma makes the sun rise, and his dharma causes the sun to set….”

Yudhistira had to stand a gruelling test. He had no time even to consider what to say, as the questions came in a continuous stream. Yudhistira was afraid to delay an answer or plead ignorance. Some of the questions sounded fatuous, some of them profound, some obscure but packed with layers of significance. Yudhistira was constantly afraid that he might upset the yaksha and provoke him to commit further damage, although one part of his mind reflected, “What worse fate can befall us?”

Without giving him time to think, the questions came, sometimes four at a time in one breath. Their range was unlimited, and they jumped from one topic to another.

“What is important for those who sow? What is important for those who seek prosperity?” Before Yudhistira could complete his sentence with “Rain,” he also had to be answering the next question with “Offspring….”

The yaksha went on to ask, “What is weightier than the earth?”

“Mother.”

“Higher than the heavens?”

“Father.”

“Faster than the wind?”

“Mind.”

“What sleeps with eyes open?”

“Fish.”

“What remains immobile after being born?”

“Egg.”

“Who is the friend of the exile?”

“The companion on the way.”

“Who is the friend of one about to die?”

“The charity done in one's lifetime.”

“Who is that friend you could count as God given?”

“A wife.”

“What is one's highest duty?”

“To refrain from injury.”

To another series of questions on renunciation, Yudhistira gave the answers: “Pride, if renounced, makes one agreeable; anger, if renounced, brings no regret; desire, if renounced, will make one rich; avarice, if renounced, brings one happiness. True tranquility is of the heart…. Mercy may be defined as wishing happiness to all creatures…. Ignorance is not knowing one's duties…. Wickedness consists in speaking ill of others.”

“Who is a true brahmin? By birth or study or conduct?”

“Not by birth, but by knowledge of the scriptures and right conduct. A brahmin born to the caste, even if he has mastered the Vedas, must be viewed as of the lowest caste if his heart is impure.”

There were a hundred or more questions in all. Yudhistira felt faint from thirst, grief, and suspense, and could only whisper his replies. Finally, the yaksha said, “Answer four more questions, and you may find your brothers—at least one of them—revived…. Who is really happy?”

“One who has scanty means but is free from debt; he is truly a happy man.”

“What is the greatest wonder?”

“Day after day and hour after hour, people die and corpses are carried along, yet the onlookers never realise that they are also to die one day, but think they will live for ever. This is the greatest wonder of the world.”

“What is the Path?”

“The Path is what the great ones have trod. When one looks for it, one will not find it by study of scriptures or arguments, which are contradictory and conflicting.”

At the end of these answers, the yaksha said, “From among these brothers of yours, you may choose one to revive.”

Yudhistira said, “If I have only a single choice, let my young brother, Nakula, rise.”

The yaksha said, “He is after all your stepbrother. I'd have thought you'd want Arjuna or Bhima, who must be dear to you.”

“Yes, they are,” replied Yudhistira. “But I have had two mothers. If only two in our family are to survive, let both the mothers have one of their sons alive. Let Nakula also live, in fairness to the memory of my other mother Madri.”

The yaksha said, “You have indeed pleased me with your humility and the judiciousness of your answers. Now let all your brothers rise up and join you.”

The yaksha thereafter revived all his brothers and also conferred on Yudhistira the following boon: “Wherever you may go henceforth, with your brothers and wife, you will have the blessing of being unrecognized.” The yaksha was none other than Yama, the God of Justice, and father of Yudhistira, who had come to test Yudhistira's strength of mind and also to bless him with the power to remain incognito—a special boon in view of the conditions laid down for the last year of exile.

The Pandavas' final trial seemed to be over. They had recovered and restored to the brahmin ascetic his churning
staff and the burning sticks. Now they could sit calmly in front of their hermitage and talk of their future.

Yudhistira said, “Our twelve years' trial is over. We have one more year to spend. Let us pass it in a city—we have lived in the forests long enough. Arjuna, you have travelled much; suggest where we could spend the coming year.”

Arjuna rose to the occasion. “We have the grace of Dharma, your father, and shall not be recognized wherever we may be. All around, there are a number of kingdoms abounding in wealth, comfort, and food. I could mention many prosperous countries—Panchala, Chedi, Matsya, Salva, Avanthi. You could choose any of these for our remaining year's residence. Any one of them will be agreeable and we will not be recognized.”