THE MAHABHARATA: A Modern Rendering, Vol 1 (40 page)

Arjuna’s eyes were full. “I will think of you whenever I see your sabha. And when I ride into battle, taking my life in my hands, I will think of you: when I blow on the Devadatta to strike fear in my enemies.”

They embraced and the quiet Asura turned and walked out of Arjuna’s life. The Pandava never asked where he was going: if Mayaa had wanted Arjuna to know, he would have told him.

A few weeks after Mayaa left Indraprastha, Yudhishtira and his brothers held a banquet in the new sabha, to which kshatriyas from other kingdoms were invited. Those who came said that truly Indraprastha, with the jewel at its heart, the Mayaa sabha, was no less than Indra’s Amravati in Devaloka. The fame of the city in the wilderness spread throughout Aryavarta and especially of the court Mayaa had built.

All the kings of the earth came to see the wonderful sabha, except Dhritarashtra and his sons. It was like a slap in the blind king’s face. He had sent his nephews into a desert, thinking he would consign them to oblivion. Now, the renown of Indraprastha was greater than that of Hastinapura. The desert had bloomed; and the Mayaa sabha was the crowning humiliation for the Kauravas. Dhritarashtra and his sons could hardly bear the envy that burned them.

Not only kings, but holy seers from the tallest mountains and the deepest jungles came to see Mayaa’s sabha. Many young kshatriyas, who came with their fathers, remained behind in Indraprastha to study archery with Arjuna. One of the finest of these was Satyaki, Krishna’s cousin from Dwaraka. Chitrasena and Chitrangadaa came to Indraprastha with Arjuna’s son Babhruvahana. They were welcomed and stayed for some months.

It was a time of plenty, a time of fortune, a time when Indraprastha was a vibrant center of activity and learning. The Pandavas’ cup of joy brimmed over. Subhadra gave birth to a splendid son, whose arms were long, his chest broad and his eyes as large as a bull’s. They named him Abhimanyu. He was a brilliant child and quickly became his uncles’ favorite. In course of time, Draupadi, too, had five sons: one from each of her husbands. Yudhishtira’s boy was Prativindhya, Bheema’s was Sutasoma, Arjuna’s Srutakarman, Nakula’s son was Satanika and Sahadeva’s prince Srutasena.2

Those were halcyon years. The dark and anxious days of the lacquer palace were forgotten, the furtive months in the jungle and Ekachakra where they ate by begging alms. It seemed destiny smiled on the sons of Pandu and their worst days were behind them.

But darkness and misfortune, the soul-makers of this world, were gathering themselves once more below time’s apparently secure horizon. Surrounded by every luxury and protected by the most powerful army and allies on earth, the Pandavas would not have dreamt they would soon be homeless wanderers in the wide world again, exiles from their wonderful city.

Meanwhile, the wheel of fortune turned toward its very zenith. The advent, once more, of Narada muni in Indraprastha was to begin this final ascendancy.

2. See Appendix for a description of Abhimanyu and Draupadi’s sons.

THREE NARADA, THE MESSENGER
 

One morning, the itinerant Narada arrived in The Pandavas’ city. The people in the streets saw a spectral pathway in the sky. It flashed down into Yudhishtira’s palace where the king sat with his brothers.

Hearing the outcry in the streets, they came out on to a terrace and saw the dazzle in the sky. Next moment, Narada stood smiling before them. Once it had delivered its slender traveler, the ethereal path dissolved.

Yudhishtira knelt before Narada and the Devarishi placed a lean brown hand on his head. He blessed the others, one by one and Narada said in his lively way, “I have heard Mayaa has built you a sabha in Indraprastha. I have come to see your sabha, Yudhishtira.”

Yudhishtira was happy as a boy. The sage’s feet were washed and he was offered madhurparka. Yudhishtira took Narada to Mayaa’s sabha and showed the muni around. Narada was full of praise, even whistling softly at this or that marvel. He was obviously something of a connoisseur, since he noticed every nuance in that edifice without having them pointed out to him. When they returned to the palace, Narada said, “Mayaa has excelled himself. His own sabha in Tripura was hardly so wonderful.”

Yudhishtira said, “Swami, you range through all the realms. You must have seen other sabhas like ours.”

Narada laughed. “I have been in the halls of Yama in the darkness and Varuna’s below the waves, Indra’s in Devaloka and those of Brahma, Vishnu and Rudra, which are past describing. Would you hear about Indra’s sabha in Amravati?”

“Yes, we would!”

“The Sudharma is made of light and crystal, in equal parts and those who come and sit in Indra’s sabha are all illustrious ones. Indra’s throne is carved out of a single ruby, a jewel of incalculable power. But a king of men shares Indra’s throne and sits beside the Lord of the Devas.”

“Who is he?” cried Bheema, hopefully.

“Harishchandra of the Suryavamsha,” said Narada and saw disappointment on their faces.

Changing the subject, with another purpose in mind, Yudhishtira said, “Tell us about the other sabhas and the kings of the earth who sit in them today.”

“The court of Yama is splendid, but swathed in the twilight of patala. The kings that live in Yama’s halls are joyful; yet, their joy is tinged with sorrow. Yayati lives with Yama and Nahusha,” said Narada the wanderer, thoughtfully.

“And who else?” asked Nakula, eagerly.

Narada named a hundred great sovereigns of old, now passed on from the earth, among them the Pandavas’ distant ancestors. Inexorably, at the end of those hundred, he came to the later kings of the Kuru line. He named Shantanu and finally, said the name they had been desperate to hear: their father Pandu’s. The princes’ eyes were full; but in his blithe way, Narada passed on to some stunning descriptions of other unearthly sabhas.

Varuna’s fabled court under the waves he told of and turned the Pandavas’ minds away from their father. The muni recounted his adventures in the mountain kingdom of Kubera, for whose sake Siva came to live on Kailasa, which is next to Kubera’s ice-city, Alaka, where he keeps the Nine Treasures and the pushpaka vimana. Brahma’s many sabhas, Vishnu’s court in Vaikunta and Rudra’s in Sivaloka, Narada said were ineffable.

“But these are all sabhas in Devaloka, or upon the borders of heaven and earth. But, Yudhishtira, of the sabhas in this world of men there is none to rival yours, not remotely.”

A silence fell and the Pandavas were lost among glowing visions of the courts Narada described, so eloquently and of the Gods that sat in them. But another matter, closer to home, nagged their hearts and at last Yudhishtira cried, “Muni, I had always thought the kings of the earth went to Devaloka when they died. From what you say, most of them are still with Yama. You said that Harishchandra shares Indra’s throne in Amravati and surely, he was a devout kshatriya. But our father was no less valiant or pure. He never told a lie in all his years and was always willing to sacrifice his life for his brothers and his people. Yet, Pandu remains in Yama’s halls, while Harishchandra sits beside Indra in the Sudharma. Why, O Narada?”

“Truly, there is nothing to choose in valor or purity between your father and Trishanku’s son Harishchandra. Yet, there is another difference. Recently I was in Yama’s realm and I met your father.

Pandu said to me, ‘Muni, you wander the earth in freedom. When you meet Yudhishtira, tell him that if he undertakes a Rajasuya yagna I shall also enter Indra’s swarga, with Shantanu and his sons. Tell him he must perform the yagna that sets one king apart from the rest and makes him a king of kings.’

That, dear Yudhishtira, is the difference between your father and Harishchandra. Harishchandra performed the Rajasuya yagna; he was an emperor. But neither you nor your ancestors are, yet.”

Yudhishtira avoided Narada’s eyes, twinkling at him. The rishi knew how diffident the Pandava was and always more concerned with dharma than power or glory. He knew that, now, Indraprastha’s master would anguish for days over the Rajasuya: could he possibly succeed at such an ambitious venture, should he embark upon it at all?

Gently, Narada said, “Yudhishtira, it is your father’s fond wish that, with your mighty brothers beside you and Krishna’s blessings upon you, you should subdue every kingdom of Bharatavarsha. All the rishis say if any king on earth can attempt a Rajasuya yagna in this yuga, he is Yudhishtira.”

“But Muni…” a hundred doubts reared their heads in Yudhishtira’s mind.

Narada cut him short. “This is your father’s wish, Yudhishtira. I am only Pandu’s messenger.”

Yudhishtira’s thoughts turned back to his boyhood and he saw his father’s face before him: Pandu, who had loved them so much, though they were not his natural sons. Yudhishtira was back in the asrama in Satasringa and for the first time, he realized his father had died a frustrated man. If any man had been born to be a king it had been Pandu; but fate had never made him more than his brother’s General. Yudhishtira knew beyond any doubt that Pandu wanted to fulfil himself through his sons; and only the fulfilled went to Indra’s realm of light.

There was no escape from it and Yudhishtira saw his brothers’ faces shine at the very thought of the imperial yagna. The Rajasuya would be the natural culmination of their years of tutelage under Kripa and Drona, a crowning trial of their worth as kshatriyas. On Bheema’s face, on Arjuna’s, on Sahadeva’s and Nakula’s Yudhishtira saw no trace of the doubt that tormented his own heart. They were superbly confident.

But he knew it was a momentous decision to make and did not commit himself.

FOUR YUDHISHTIRA’S QUANDARY
 

Narada stayed on for some days in Indraprastha. Yudhishtira was full of anxiety after he heard what Pandu wanted him to do. Yudhishtira had always been singularly free of ambition. When Krishna raised Indraprastha in the wilderness, the Pandava had been more than delighted with his share of the kingdom. Mayaa’s sabha had enthralled him: but only as a wonderful new toy excites a child.

Yudhishtira nursed no grievance against his cousins in Hastinapura or his uncle Dhritarashtra. He was pleased to be far from them and with the peace he enjoyed in Indraprastha. He had no desire to have revenge on the Kauravas: not for having tried to murder his brothers and himself, not for the exile in Ekachakra, not for Dhritarashtra having given him a wasteland for his share of the kingdom. Yudhishtira asked nothing more of life than what he had.

Now he heard his father was still in Yama’s halls and he could only attain Indra’s domain if the Pandavas performed a Rajasuya yagna. Yudhishtira’s serenity was destroyed. Wild plans of conquest stirred in his gentle heart. He saw his father’s face in his dreams and Pandu spoke sadly to his son, “You must perform a Rajasuya yagna. It is almost the end of the dwapara yuga and this is our last chance to reach Devaloka.”

Yudhishtira’s days were troubled and his nights sleepless. When he knew the dream would not fade and leave him in peace, he reluctantly called a council in the Mayaa sabha. Vyasa also appeared in Indraprastha at this time.

When the sabha sat, Yudhishtira said, “Narada tells me my father remains in Yama’s kingdom with his grandsire Shantanu. Pandu sends word that only if we undertake a Rajasuya yagna will our ancestors gain Devaloka. I have given it deep thought, but I cannot arrive at a decision. The Rajasuya is no ordinary yagna. There is no sacrifice on earth as rare or as difficult; how many kings in all time have successfully performed a Rajasuya?

My fear is, are we worthy of the royal yagna? Are we pure enough, strong enough? I need your advice, my friends, I cannot make up my mind.”

He turned first to Dhaumya, who said with no hesitation, “You tread the path of dharma, Yudhishtira. To my mind, there is no king on earth more suited to undertake a Rajasuya.”

Yudhishtira turned to his grandfather Vyasa. The old rishi said quietly, “My son, it is in your destiny that you will perform the imperial yagna.”

A knowing muni that lived in Indraprastha cried, “You will not fail, Yudhishtira. Your fathers will soon be in Devaloka!”

Another said, “A man who plunges thoughtlessly into any endeavor is usually doomed to fail. But he who ponders the nature of his venture, who introspects conscientiously, weighs his own strengths and weaknesses, his resources against his needs, will succeed in whatever he decides to do. And you, Yudhishtira, have thought hard before you even called us here.”

Yet another sage smiled, “And you still haven’t decided if you will perform the yagna!”

It seemed his brothers agreed with the rishis. When Yudhishtira looked at them, he saw they were flushed with excitement. And which kshatriya would not be? He shared their keenness; but it was not his nature to be carried away by his emotions. He was the king; he must consider every possible pitfall before he embarked on the great enterprise. He knew that if they began and could not complete the yagna, it would break their hearts.

The choice was his, perhaps even because he was so cautious; and he could not make up his mind.

Yudhishtira said doubtfully, “It is only an emperor who may perform the Rajasuya yagna. Yet, Munis, my heart is becoming set on it. But will I succeed? I must first become the sovereign of every kshatriya in Bharatavarsha, a king of kings.”

Now Vyasa said, “You will never decide, one way or another, until you have sought the advice of someone who is not among us today. You had best send word to him and ask what he thinks.”

A smile lit Yudhishtira’s worried face. Narada volunteered, “I will take word to Krishna that you need him urgently.” His eyes grew wistful. “It has been so long since I saw him, anyway.”

When Narada arrived in Dwaraka, stepping out of the air with a song on his lips, another messenger, altogether more bedraggled and anxious than the good muni, had just finished delivering a petition from ninety-eight kings. They begged Krishna to come and set them free from the dungeons of Girivraja, where Jarasandha of Magadha had imprisoned them. Their crime against him was that they did not pay him tribute, remaining loyal to dark Krishna instead.

When Krishna had killed own uncle, Kamsa, he had made an implacable enemy of Jarasandha. Kamsa had been a favorite pupil of the king of Magadha and his son-in-law besides. Jarasandha brought several armies to the gates of Mathura and Krishna and his Yadavas decimated each one. Every time, to Jarasandha’s chagrin, Krishna spared his life: so he could muster more fell legions for the Dark One to slaughter. The Avatara had been born to rid the earth of her burden of evil; and, ruled by his obsession to kill him, Jarasandha served Krishna’s purpose.

Now, Krishna thought time was ripe for Jarasandha to die. For it was time the mantle of evil passed on to another spirit of darkness, a demon born into another generation: Duryodhana.

Krishna knew that most of his own battles on earth were over; it was time others fought in his name, especially, his cousins in Indraprastha. He knew one day they would fight a war on the brink of two ages, a war to end all others; and with that war, the kali yuga would begin.

However, immediately, Jarasandha meant to sacrifice the captive kings as soon as they numbered a hundred. He meant to cut their heads off and offer them to Siva. There was an outcry among the Yadavas when the incarcerated kings’ messenger brought their message to Krishna’s sabha.

“We must march against Jarasandha and free the ninety-eight!”

“We have spared the Magadhan’s life too often!”

“Since we moved to Dwaraka, he brings no more armies against us. Why should he live another day?”

A hundred yojanas from Raivataka was the valley of Girivraja, in which Jarasandha had his capital. The day he heard the Yadavas had abandoned Mathura, that king stormed out of his court and, roaring so the hills around Girivraja trembled, hurled his mace at Dwaraka. Ninety-nine yojanas that glittering weapon flashed through the sky and fell just outside the gates of the sea-city; and Dwaraka shook. Since that day, Jarasandha left Krishna and the Yadavas alone; now, he had imprisoned Krishna’s allies.

Balarama thundered, “You have spared his life too long, Krishna. The wretch must die!”

Krishna did not commit himself. Then Narada arrived, merry and tuneful, ecstatic to see the Blue God again. Krishna rose to receive Brahma’s son.

When the Avatara had washed the sage’s feet himself and made him sit in his own throne, he said, “The worlds are free from fear, now your worship ranges over them! How may we serve you, Mahamuni?”

Narada replied, “My Lord, it is not as if anything is hidden from you, ah, not in any of the worlds. Yet, since you want to humor an old man, I will tell you why I have come. Your cousin Yudhishtira is distraught, because I myself sowed a seed in his mind that has sprouted into a grand ambition.”

Krishna gave a shout of laughter. “As you ever subtly do! Sometimes to lead evil ones to their doom and at others to show the kshatriyas of dharma the path to glory.”

Narada flushed happily. “My work is only as you please, my Lord. It is you I serve.”

“You are far too modest, Muni. Tell me, Narada, what ambition has sprung in my peaceful cousin’s heart? Ambition is alien to his very nature. There must be some powerful reason why Yudhishtira has suddenly grown ambitious!”

“He is full of anxiety, Krishna: should he or shouldn’t he, will he or won’t he perform a Rajasuya yagna? He is anguished and seeks your advice.”

Krishna whistled like a bird. “So, at last, my cousin begins to sense his own destiny. But tell me, Muni, what did you say to him to turn him against his own peace-loving nature?”

“I only did the work of a messenger. I merely conveyed what his father Pandu said to me: that neither he nor Shantanu, or Shantanu’s sons could rise from Yama’s mazes into Indra’s realm, until Yudhishtira performed a Rajasuya yagna.”

“How timely you brought this message to Yudhishtira!” cried Krishna. “I have always thought, sagest of sages, that it isn’t the messages you bring, but the flawless timing of your arrivals that is so remarkable.”

Krishna turned to the messenger from the captive kings of Girivraja. The Yadavas’ attention had been deflected from their fervor to ride, at once, to crush Jarasandha.

Now Krishna said, “We have two messengers, my lords, calling us to different places, both with urgent need. On the face of it, their missions seem exclusive of each other, but I wonder if that is truly so. I wonder if Indraprastha is not the way we should be heading to answer the summons from Girivraja.”

The messenger from the ninety-eight kings and the rest of the Yadavas looked perplexed. Only Narada smiled. Balarama said heatedly, “How can we save the kings from that mad man by going to Indraprastha?”

“It is true,” smiled Krishna, “that Jarasandha is mad. Yet, as far as I know, he is also invincible. You have always accused me of forcing you to spare Jarasandha’s life, many times, when you held it in the palm of your hand outside Mathura. The truth, Balarama, is that not even you could have killed him, because of a boon he has from his foster-mother, the rakshasi Jara. Jarasandha can only be killed by the one born to kill him.”

Krishna looked around him at his Yadavas. He said softly, “My lords, you are so keen to take our legions to Girivraja. But I am afraid, if we do, we will find defeat at its gates.”

They began to protest. Krishna said, “I promise you Jarasandha will die and he will die without our having to take an army to Magadha.” He turned back to the messenger, “Friend, your kings will not perish; they will soon be free. Go and tell them not to be anxious. I never fail those who give me their trust.” He turned to Narada, “My lord, I will go first to Indraprastha, for the way to Girivraja leads through there.”

There were some murmurs in the sabha and Balarama still seemed confused. But Krishna had made up his mind and nobody would trifle with that. Time and again, his judgement had been uncannily vindicated; and the obvious way been shown to be the path to disaster. His methods were mysterious, like no one else’s, but they were invariably effective.

Krishna set out again for Indraprastha.