THE MAHABHARATA: A Modern Rendering, Vol 1 (72 page)

THIRTY-ONE DESPAIR
 

In a daze, Duryodhana stumbled out of the Pandavas’ asrama. He didn’t say a word to his brothers or his wives. His retinue followed him in silence, fearing his wrath if they dared speak. Night had fallen and a burnished moon rose above the Kaurava party. They came to a small river that flowed beside the path on which they walked. Duryodhana stopped and signaled that they should make camp for the night.

Tents were pitched, fires lit and food cooked. But Duryodhana sat apart from the others, staring across the river. Dusasana came to call him to eat, but his brother waved him away. The night wore on and, exhausted by the day’s adventure, the other Kuru princes fell asleep. Their women slept, as well and the soldiers. Only Duryodhana sat on the riverbank, gazing dully at the moon riding on the water, his eyes seeing nothing.

Early the next morning, they heard horses’ hooves and shouts approaching the camp. It was Karna. He rode up like a storm, leapt down from his chariot and embraced Duryodhana.

“O Kshatriya!” cried Karna. “You vanquished the gandharva. I did my best, but he was invincible: an archer from Devaloka, his weapons unearthly. How did you beat him, Duryodhana? I am amazed.”

Duryodhana had not uttered a word. Now he turned his face up to Karna and tears flowed down his cheeks.

Karna was taken aback. “What is this? Why are you crying?”

With a sob, Duryodhana confessed, “It was not I, but Arjuna who beat the gandharva.”

“Arjuna?”

“We were routed by the Elves. They took us all. Then, Bheema, Arjuna, Nakula and Sahadeva arrived and gave them battle. Arjuna filled the sky with fire, so the gandharva king Chitrasena had to fly down to the ground. When he got out of his vimana Arjuna ran to embrace him, because they are friends. Chitrasena knew why we came to the forest and he told the Pandavas everything. Arjuna asked him to free us. The gandharva said he would not, unless Yudhishtira wanted it.

So we went to the asrama in the Kamyaka, after all; ah, Karna, not as we intended, but in shame! Bound hand and foot like some thief, I stood before my cousin, praying the earth would open and swallow me. The gandharva said to Yudhishtira, ‘You decide their fate. They came to gloat over your privation.’ Of course, the noble Yudhishtira told Chitrasena to set us free. Can you imagine what I felt then, Karna? Death could not be so terrible.

When we were free and Chitrasena had flown off in his vimana, Yudhishtira turns to me in his gentle, maddening way and says, ‘Being spiteful never brought anyone joy. Go back to Hastinapura and don’t be so rash again. Go in peace, I wish you well.’

He wished me well! I stood there, wishing I was dead. How much better it would have been for me to have died fighting the gandharvas than have the Pandavas save my wretched life. Karna, what is my life worth now, that I owe it to my cousins? I do not want to live any more. As I left their asrama, I heard Bheema laughing and that slut as well. I can’t bear to go back to Hastinapura. I have decided to stay here and not eat or drink until my miserable spirit has left my body. And then, perhaps, some honor will be Salvaged from this shame.”

Duryodhana turned emotionally to Dusasana, “My brother, go back to Hastinapura and become king in my place. Rule wisely, with Karna and Shakuni beside you. Always be a sanctuary to your friends and generous to your brahmanas. Mix justice with mercy when you judge a crime. There is no one better to teach you discernment than our uncle Vidura.”

Dusasana began to cry. Duryodhana turned back to Karna, “My friend, I thought you and I would rule the world together. All that is just a dream now; this is the end for me. But you must always be at Dusasana’s side and make him a better king than I was.”

With a wail, Dusasana fell at his feet, “What are you saying? How can you even think of dying, when we all depend on you? And you are asking me to be king in your place, while you die? The earth will split in two before that happens. The sky will fall into the sea and the sun spin loose from his orbit, before I rule in my brother’s place!

How dare you say this to me? Is this how much you love me? Do you wish all our brothers dead, that you speak of killing yourself? Don’t ever say such things, you are my very life!”

Duryodhana raised him up and they both sobbed like boys. Karna said, “What is this crying and moaning over nothing, Kuru princes? It was just a childish prank we came on and we were caught out. Let me tell you, the Pandavas did not help you out of any love, only for their precious dharma. They would have done the same for anyone.

Besides, do you think they did not realize what a humiliation it would be for you, that it was they who saved you lives? And you talk of killing yourself. You are doing exactly what they want. Who will be happier than Pandu’s sons if Duryodhana kills himself? Think with your head, my friend and not your grief. Come back to Hastinapura. If you kill yourself, you will be the laughing-stock of the kshatriyas of the earth.”

“I agree with Karna!” cried another voice. Shakuni had arrived, unnoticed. “You talk of killing yourself over such a petty thing? I am amazed at you, Duryodhana. This is unmanly. It shows an immature nature: too used to comfort, unfamiliar with pain.

If you are so concerned that you have wronged your cousins, why not go and make up with them, since they saved your life? If you think your reputation is ruined, restore it by returning their kingdom to Pandu’s sons. Repay their noble gesture by being even nobler. Yudhishtira did certainly treat you like his brother. You do the same: return Indraprastha to them, if you dare, instead of killing yourself like a coward.”

Then, Shakuni’s voice was a familiar hiss again. “Remember, you can only kill your enemies if you are alive yourself!”

But for once, Duryodhana was unmoved by even his suave uncle. That prince said sadly, “Shakuni, I have nothing more to do with any of that. I care nothing for wealth, kingdom, honor, friendship or pleasure. I beg you, leave me alone! I have decided to die and no power on earth will stop me. All of you go back to Hastinapura and let me die in peace.”

He rose and walked away from the others, down the riverbank by himself. When he found a secluded spot, hidden by a screen of thorn-bushes, Duryodhana cast off his royal robes. He put on a simple cloth he had brought with him, a rag he had taken from a common soldier. He gathered an armful of kusa grass, spread it on the ground and sat on it facing west in the posture of the lotus. He began to pray, fully intending to die.

The day wore on and Duryodhana sat with his breath controlled and his eyes shut. Twilight came and then night fell. There was no semblance of peace in the Kuru prince’s heart. Turbulent thoughts, frenzied anxieties, hunted one another through his mind. He heard Bheema’s scornful laughter. He heard Yudhishtira’s gentle voice, ‘Go in peace, I wish you well.’ He saw the handsome face of Chitrasena, his eyes bright and mocking.

And soon, his life began to play itself out in chaotic pictures in Duryodhana’s mind: his childhood, his adolescent cruelties and the day the Pandavas first came to Hastinapura. His loves flashed before his eyes; then, the day of the gambling, when he had his cousins banished. Ah, that was such a sweet day. He sighed to think of that day’s triumph, when he won a kingdom at a game of dice!

Then he thought of death and he shivered. He knew his time to die had not come. There was so much he still wanted to achieve, most of all…yes, he wanted to see Yudhishtira and his brothers dead. Only that would put out the fire in his soul.

The night wore on. The Kaurava did not stir, though pangs of hunger began to roil him.

THIRTY-TWO THE POWERS OF DARKNESS
 

All creation is ruled, in turns, by the forces of darkness and light: the earth as well. Both forces have their own creatures in the world, ordinary men and those with great power. The Kauravas and the Pandavas served opposite causes.

On another world, the Daityas and Danavas, who are the masters of evil in the universe, had recently suffered some reversals at the hands of the Devas. They were cast out of the higher realms and back down to the patalas and narakas, where they belonged. The two sides fought bitterly for sovereignty over the middle region, the earth: most of all, since Krishna was born.

These were the days of a yugasandhi, a cusp of ages between a dwapara and a kali yuga. Krishna’s mission was to ensure that no power of evil survived into the coming, lesser age, to dominate it.

The powers of darkness were losing what was, just years ago, a stranglehold over the earth and its affairs. Krishna had killed Kamsa, Jarasandha and thousands of other incarnate demons. Now an ancient mantle of evil had fallen on the shoulders of Duryodhana of Hastinapura. He was the last hope of the forces of tyranny and violence on earth, for Krishna had swept the other evil ones before him in a tide of light.

And now Duryodhana sat beside the river, having decided to kill himself.

In grim patala, under world, domain of perpetual twilight, some of the most powerful Demons sat in conclave. Many of them were as old as the earth herself. Some had great saurian forms. Some were humanoid, but huge, their eyes dreadful; and still others were unquiet vapors. They saw what Duryodhana meant to do and their persuasions within his mind seemed to have no effect on the Kuru prince. He had grown numb and seemed determined to die.

Those Asuras lit a fire of yagna and sat around it chanting eerie mantras. The fire blazed dark and high; as the incantations grew more resonant, a kritya, a naked female spirit, appeared among the flames. She was tall as a palm tree, her eyes burning, her hair flames and her body a cool fire.

She stood before the monsters that had summoned her and said in a hollow voice, “Command me, masters of the night. Why have I been called from the pit?”

In fell voices, the Demons said, “Fly up to the earth and fetch the Kuru prince Duryodhana to us.”

Duryodhana, who sat with his eyes shut beside the river, fell into a dream. He dreamt a fierce and naked woman flew down out of the air and plucked him up in her arms. Before he could ask who she was, in the way of dreams she was bearing him far away, to a remote land. All was dim in that country. They flew at breathless speed over mysterious continents and seas and she brought him to a hidden island and a crystal cave that was a palace.

In a secret chamber within that palace an emerald fire burned and around it sat a group of the strangest old men Duryodhana had ever seen. They were fair and dark, big and small. They were somehow unreal: as if their present forms were appearances assumed for Duryodhana’s eyes and they looked very different when they were truly themselves. Duryodhana was inexplicably comforted in their presence; he felt a deep sense of belonging. He felt he knew these strange men from another life and knew them well.

The smallest, but the eldest, Demon said to Duryodhana in an echoing voice, “King of men, how can you think of killing yourself, when there is so much you must still accomplish? The very purpose of your birth!”

Another, a graybeard, said, “Kshatriya, you are no ordinary mortal. We worshipped Siva and the Devi with a thousand yagnas, so you would be born. Above the waist, your body was made by Mahadeva out of impenetrable vajras. Below the waist, the Devi herself made your form from the flowers of heaven, to please the women of earth. You were created by Siva and Uma.”

Another said in a woman’s voice, “You must rule the earth. Narakasura’s spirit has entered Karna: you have nothing to fear from Arjuna, Karna will kill him. Millions of Danavas and Daityas have been born into the world of men, to be your legions. The Pandavas cannot stand against you, Duryodhana!”

“Don’t let a petty defeat deflect you from your true purpose, Kaurava,” said the first one who had spoken. “Yours and ours is a great destiny. We shall rule the earth for a thousand years of the Devas. It is an older war than you think that you fight. It is almost the dawning of the kali yuga. We must win the war on the crack of the ages and win it we shall. You are never alone, Duryodhana; we are always with you, proud spirit!”

Those Demons blessed him with bizarre mantras and laid their ashen hands on his head. The woman of fire picked him up in her cool arms again and flew back into the world. When she set him down, she stroked his face briefly and vanished. Duryodhana awoke with a start. He saw it was dawn and Karna sat before him on the riverbank, gazing curiously at his face.

Gently, Karna stroked his friend’s cheek. “Duryodhana, do you think the Pandavas have forgiven you for everything, just because they rescued you from the gandharva? No, they kept you alive only so they could have the satisfaction of killing you themselves. Oh my friend, does Arjuna’s archery fill you with dread? I swear I will kill him for you. Drona, Dusasana, all your brothers, Bheeshma and Aswatthama are with you. What force on earth can stand against us?”

Karna grasped Duryodhana’s hand and cried, “I will kill Arjuna! You shall kill Bheema! As for the other three, any of our warriors can finish them. You must never think of killing yourself, vast power and kingdom are written for you. But is that a smile on your face? Tell me you have abandoned your madness!”

With a cry, Duryodhana embraced Karna. He said, “Let us return to Hastinapura! I am resolved to fight. Either I will kill the Pandavas and rule the earth, or killed by them in war, I will find heaven for myself. Let there be no more cowards’ talk among us. My life’s purpose is clear to me now.”

Karna noticed the change in his friend. There was a new maturity and determination about Duryodhana, as if he had undergone some profound experience in the night. The Kuru prince did not tell Karna what it was; in fact, he hardly remembered it himself. Arm in arm, they walked to Karna’s chariot. The rest of the Kuru force had gone back in dismay to Hastinapura, Duryodhana’s queens in panic. As soon as they arrived, the news spread like fire through the city.

Duryodhana returned to Hastinapura with Karna and made his appearance in court, as casually as ever. Dhritarashtra clasped his son to him, choking, for he had feared the worst. Even as he held Duryodhana in his arms, his blind father sensed a new cold resolve in the prince: as if he had grown up suddenly. A little frightened by him, the king returned to his throne.

But Bheeshma spoke his mind that day. He said, “I told you, my child, not to go to the forest. You could not face the gandharva, could you? Not you or your Karna, in whom you place all your faith. But Arjuna and his brothers had Chitrasena’s measure. Do you know why? Because they have dharma with them. On this earth, there is no force equal to the power of dharma.

It is as if the Gods themselves have spoken to you, Duryodhana and they have warned you. Go back to the forest, make peace with your cousins. You have seen how powerful they are. Beg their forgiveness and bring them home in honor. Do it today, my son: if not for the Pandavas’ sake, then for your own.”

Bheeshma was hopeful that, after the rout in the forest, he could persuade Duryodhana to see the light of sanity. The Kuru patriarch could not have been more mistaken. Duryodhana stood there in that sabha, staring blankly at Bheeshma for a moment. Then the prince threw back his head and, as he had never done yet, laughed in his grandsire’s face. With that, he nodded to Shakuni who also rose from his place. Both walked out of the Kuru sabha, in contempt, while Bheeshma’s face was scarlet with the insult.

Duryodhana and his inner circle sat in council. There was surely a new sense of purpose about the Kaurava. He said, “Ever since Yudhishtira performed a Rajasuya in Indraprastha, I, too, have longed to undertake one here in Hastinapura. To show the world that we are no less than our cousins.” He turned to Karna, “Only you, my friend, can realize this dream for me.”

Karna said, “This is what I love to hear from you! Old Bheeshma always extols the sons of Pandu, as if you are less than they are in some way. He looks down on me also and his condescension scathes me. It took five Pandavas to subdue Bharatavarsha and to hold a Rajasuya yagna in Indraprastha. For you, Duryodhana, I will conquer the earth on my own and bring its kings in fealty to your sacrifice. Gather your brahmanas for the yagna. I am ready to ride today.”

Duryodhana had the brahmanas fetched. They demurred, “You cannot think of a Rajasuya yagna while Yudhishtira lives.”

But Duryodhana growled at them, “Can a hermit in exile, who has no kingdom, no army, no wealth, who wears deerskin and tree-bark, be considered the Lord of the earth? The very idea is absurd. The throne of Bharatavarsha is empty and I have decided to be the emperor that sits on it.”

The brahmanas saw a new Duryodhana before them: a mature man who knew his time was limited. They said, “So be it, then; only the greatest kshatriyas are given the ambition of a Rajasuya yagna. Choose the auspicious ground where you will perform the yagna, turn the earth with your own hands and have a sabha built for the sacrifice. But first, you must subdue all the kings of the world; most of all, those who are your enemies.”

“Find the auspicious ground, then,” said Duryodhana. “And find an auspicious day for the Kuru army to ride under Karna’s command!”

So, while in Hastinapura feverish preparations got underway for the yagna, Karna rode out at the head of a Kuru army to conquer the kingdoms of the earth. He quelled Drupada first, in single combat, just as Arjuna once had. News of this victory went before Karna and hearing it, hardly any other king dared fight him. Those that welcomed him, acknowledging Duryodhana’s sovereignty, he invited graciously to the Rajasuya. Those who gave battle to the Kuru army, he swiftly quelled. Karna was like a thousand kshatriyas in battle; he was prodigious and irresistible.

When he rode back in triumph to Hastinapura, a spectacular, if garish, sabha had been raised for the royal yagna. Duryodhana came to the gates to welcome his conquering Senapati. Embracing him, the Kaurava prince cried, “As long as you are with me, I will definitely rule the earth!”

Karna replied, “That is your destiny, my friend!”

But when some of the older brahmanas learnt that Duryodhana would perform the Rajasuya yagna, they raised an objection. “Dhritarashtra lives and he is king of the Kurus. How can you perform the Rajasuya in your own name, while your father is alive? The world will scoff at you.”

Duryodhana roared, “Have all Karna’s conquests have been in vain? Does the glory he won for me amount to nothing?”

They saw his mood was dangerous. Quickly, the brahmanas said, “There is another yagna you can perform, as great as the Rajasuya. Indeed, only Mahavishnu himself has ever performed that sacrifice, in the most ancient days.”

“Which yagna is this?”

“The Vaishnava yagna.”

“Let it be the Vaishnava yagna then. Let the holiest brahmanas be invited to it and let every king who owes us allegiance be present. It must be the greatest sacrifice of these times.” Duryodhana was thoughtful for a moment. “Let us not be accused of not inviting the sons of Pandu. Dusasana, send someone to the Kamyaka vana to ask Yudhishtira and his brothers to attend our Vaishnava yagna.”

“Let us see if they will come as easily in your time of glory, as they did when you were in trouble,” said Karna.

The same day, a messenger rode to the asrama in the Kamyaka vana. The man came before Yudhishtira and, bowing, said, “My lord, the Kuru prince Duryodhana is to perform a Vaishnava yagna in Hastinapura. King Dhritarashtra and my lords Duryodhana and Dusasana have sent me to invite you and your brothers to the sacrifice.”

The man stood waiting for an answer. Yudhishtira said pleasantly, “So Duryodhana means to perform Vishnu’s own sacrifice. My brothers and I would have been delighted to come, but we have sworn not to enter Hastinapura until we have served thirteen years in exile.”

For good measure, Bheema growled, “And when the thirteen years are served, we will return to Hastinapura. Tell Duryodhana we shall come for another sacrifice then and he and his brothers will be the sacrificial goats!”

Yudhishtira said, “Hush, Bheema. What has this poor man done to offend you? He is only his master’s messenger, come to invite us to a sacrifice.”

But of course, along with Yudhishtra’s, Bheema’s message was borne back to Duryodhana. However, preparations for the yagna were underway and all Duryodhana said was, “They are afraid our yagna will be greater than theirs.”

And there were many in Hastinapura, most of whom had not attended Yudhishtira’s Rajasuya in Indraprastha, who said Duryodhana’s Vaishnava yagna was the greatest sacrifice in living memory. There is no denying that, largely, the people of Hastina felt proud. But there were others, albeit a few, who whispered, “Duryodhana’s Vaishnava yagna is not a tenth the sacrifice that Yudhishtira’s Rajasuya was.”

“Whatever you say, a Rajasuya is a Rajasuya.”

“This yagnashala does not compare with the one outside the Mayaa sabha. Nor are the priests as holy.”

“The truly great brahmanas would not come, because they know Duryodhana is an evil prince.”

Yet, mainly, the people of Hastinapura were overjoyed and they thought this was the most magnificent yagna they had seen. They came and blessed their blind king and his son, who was now an emperor in his own right. At the end of the sacrifice, Duryodhana came before his elders, Bheeshma, Dhritarashtra, Vidura, Drona, Kripa and the others and paid homage to them. And on that day, even Bheeshma and Vidura were full of nothing but praise for him.