THE MAHABHARATA: A Modern Rendering, Vol 2 (17 page)

You have lived thinking your mother who gave birth to you did not love you. She longs for you. Not seeing you, not knowing you, causes her more grief than you can imagine. Come away with me, Karna. Don’t look back, come now.”

For a moment, Karna stood staring at Krishna. Then he smiled, “Ah, Krishna, who could make it sound more enchanting than you? And I see that you do it out of love. But it is not as simple as you make it out to be. True, by law I am a Pandava, a Kaunteya and your cousin. But just the facts of blood cannot change the course of my life as it has been. Krishna, my mother floated me down the river when I was an infant. I could have drowned; but her reputation was more precious to her than my life. Such a woman is not worth calling one’s mother.

Atiratha found me, abandoned and adrift, as I am sure God meant him to. When his wife Radha saw me—she always marvels at it—her breasts filled with mother’s milk! She took me in her arms and fed me. Not Kunti, but Radha is my mother. Atiratha has loved me like his own son. My heart belongs with them; they will always be my parents.

Then, there is Duryodhana. How can you think I would abandon him? No, not for all the kingdom and wealth on earth would I betray Duryodhana. What you don’t account for is that I am a grown man; it is too late for me to change. My loves and hates, my friendships and enmities have already formed. The only way I can change them is to die.”

With pity and admiration, Krishna looked at this remarkable warrior. Karna said, “It is honor and fame that I live for. More than anything else, I live to fight Arjuna in what I have sworn shall be the last battle of one of us. If I join the Pandavas now, how will the world witness the duel we have both promised it? Above all, I am an archer and so is Arjuna. Each of us claims to be the finest bowman on earth. Mustn’t we discover the truth in battle?”

Krishna began to say something, but Karna went on, “I know what you want to tell me: that you, great one, protect the Pandavas and no force on earth can conquer them. I am not a fool that I do not know this. But honor demands that I fight my own brothers. My place is beside my deluded, doomed friend. I will fight for Duryodhana and die for him. I am fate’s plaything, its victim and have always been; not even you can suddenly turn me into her favorite son. It is too late for that, sweet cousin. If I betray Duryodhana now, I shall not only be time’s victim, but her clown.”

Krishna heaved a sigh and shook his head sadly. Then Karna’s eyes were full of fear. “How will I fight Arjuna when I know he is my brother? Krishna, did you have to pierce me with this savage truth? I have never lived in peace and now I will not die peacefully either. Yet, how do I hold it against you, when you are trying to save my life? But since you love me and since we are cousins, there is one service you can do me.”

Krishna’s eyes were bright and moist. “Tell me what it is and I will do it.”

“Swear you will keep this secret, until I am dead. Yudhishtira will never fight me, if he knows we are brothers. He will offer me the kingdom he is fighting for and that would never do. We are kshatriyas, Krishna; we are born for battle.

As for me, I know I fight for a cause that is lost, before the first arrow is loosed. Yet, though I am doomed by my choice, I will stand with Duryodhana. There is a heaven above for kshatriyas who die on the field of battle; I aspire to that swarga. The earth holds no charm for me and my life is worthless, especially now, after what you have said. What use is living, when my heart is in pieces and I can never be sure of who I am? I prefer death, because I have never been comfortable in life. And my way to death lies clear before me: fighting Duryodhana’s hopeless war.”

“What makes you so certain the Pandavas will win this war?” asked Krishna.

“Why, my lord, because this war is to be a yagna, your awesome sacrifice. It is the end of the dwa-para yuga and the earth’s burden must be made lighter; the wise say you have been born for that. The rest of us are but players in your lila. You will be the ritvik, the high priest on the field of Kurukshetra and Arjuna will be your fire. The rest of us, Dhritarashtra’s sons, Bheeshma, Drona and I and all the kings who fight for Duryodhana, we shall be your havis, your offerings; we shall all burn.

I have dreams, Krishna. As I used to dream of my mother once, I now dream of the war of the Kurus and its end. Repeatedly, in my dream I see Yudhishtira, bright as a star, with a golden bowl of payasa in his hands out of which he drinks. I saw Bheema on a mountain, immense himself, glaring down at the world spread below him like a tapestry. I saw you, Krishna and Arjuna, like two suns, your light streaming down over the world. In my dream, I saw Nakula, Sahadeva and Satyaki clad in white silk, with garlands around their necks and jewels glittering on their bodies, to signify their lordship over the earth. They smiled at me.

But that is not all I saw. I saw the warriors of Duryodhana’s army, all of us wearing black and our heads bent, walking south, always south. Those who walk south in a dream never have long to live. Krishna, I saw the end of your sacrifice on Kurukshetra. Dusasana lay bleeding on the earth, his chest torn open; Bheema stood over him and his lips were stained with blood. Drona and Bheeshma fell, killed by Dhrishtadyumna and Shikhandi. I was cut down by Arjuna’s arrow and I fell. And at last, Bheema broke Duryodhana’s thigh, as he swore he would and left him to die slowly, to pay in agony for everything.

I see it all as if it has already happened. Inexplicably, these dreams fill me not with dread, only elation. I am more than ready to die. I began my lonely journey the day I was born. I have borne my burden long enough; I am impatient for death to free me! There is indeed a swarga above for kshatri-yas who die in battle. I dream of that place, too; only there, shall I find my peace. Only there, will I find my brothers, my father and mother again. And then it shall truly be heaven.

But now, Krishna, I see in your eyes that you must be going. This is perhaps the last time we shall meet like this, kindly. When we see each other next, it will be as mortal enemies on the field of war.” He paused and a wistful look touched his face briefly. Karna said, “But then, we shall meet again as friends, cousin, in Devaloka after I am dead.”

Krishna clasped Karna to him and for a moment, Karna had tears in his eyes. He wiped them quickly and wrung Krishna’s hand one last time. They walked back together toward Satyaki waiting in his chariot.

SEVENTEEN
THE PANDAVA SENAPATI 

Exhausted by his embassy, Krishna came back to Upaplavya. The Pandavas were waiting anxiously for the word he brought. He greeted them warmly, but his face was strained and he said he must sleep a while, before he told them what had happened in Hastinapura. Krishna retired to his apartment. It was evening when he appeared again in the court of Upaplavya. Yudhishtira welcomed him formally and, when everyone was seated, the Pandava said, “Krishna, I see sadness on your face and it is not difficult to imagine what the news is from Hastinapura. But tell us what happened.”

Krishna said, “I fear your inference is true, Yudhishtira. My mission failed and our dream of peace remains a dream. I did all I could to turn Duryodhana back to dharma. But he was obstinate.” He sighed, “There will be war, Yudhishtira, you will have to fight.”

A spasm of anguish twitched on Yudhishtira’s face. In a low voice, he said, “Tell me everything that happened. I want to hear each detail.”

“I was taken to the sabha in Hastinapura, where the Kuru elders sat on their thrones and where Narada and Vyasa waited and other rishis, to hear the destiny of the world being decided.”

Krishna told them how the elders tried to convince Duryodhana to relent, how Dhritarashtra, Bheeshma, Drona and Vidura spoke for peace. He told them what he himself had said and Duryodhana’s angry reply, arguing his innocence; and how the Kaurava walked haughtily out of the court.

Krishna described how Gandhari came to plead with Duryodhana and how he walked out again in fury, without answering his mother.

Finally, smiling, Krishna came to the plot to take him a hostage in Hastinapura. For once Yudhishtira lost his composure and cried in a terrible voice, “For that he will die! My days of forgiving him are over. The earth is thirsty for the blood of these beasts and she shall drink her fill. War! Let there be war! Let there be war at once!”

Bheema threw his mace into the air. He ran to Yudhishtira and embraced him wildly. He roared, “War! At last, my brother cries for war! Nothing can save Dhritarashtra’s sons now. Arjuna! Karna’s blood will darken the earth of Kurukshetra. Sahadeva, my brother, my eyes will watch you spill the vile Shakuni’s blood and shed tears of joy. Ah, Krishna! This is the happiest day of my life, I feel I have drunk amrita.”

Krishna said, “When I left for Upaplavya, Duryodhana had already ordered his army to march on Kurukshetra.” He was grave again, “Bheeshma will be the Senapati of the Kuru forces, its Supreme Commander. Dharma is on our side, but let us never underestimate the enemy. Your Pitama vanquished his guru Bhargava in battle; first of all, we have awesome Bheeshma to face. Arjuna and you Shikhandi, who have sworn to kill Bheeshma, prepare yourselves!”

Krishna did not say a word about his meeting with Karna in the woods. Yudhishtira rose to address the kings who had come with their armies to join him. “We have done our best to secure peace, but Duryodhana will have none of it. The war we must fight is a war thrust on us, a war we never wanted. The time of trial, the ruthless time, is upon us. I thank you all for coming to help me in the name of dharma. Krishna, Lord, seven aksauhinis are yours to command. Drupada, Virata, Dhrishtadyumna, Satyaki, Shikhandi, Chekitana and Bheema could, any of them, lead our army. You must decide what role each one will have. I also want to hear my brothers’ opinions, about who our Senapati should be. Sahadeva, child, you are the youngest, but the wisest in many ways. Let us hear what you think first.”

Sahadeva rose and said, “My lord, any of those you named can lead our army, for they are all great kshatriyas. But to stand against Pitama Bheeshma, I would choose king Virata of the Matsyas. He is a seasoned soldier, his age and experience commend him.”

Yudhishtira turned to Nakula, “Nakula, whom would you have as our Senapati?”

Nakula said with no hesitation, “Drupada, lord of the Panchalas. He is Bhargava’s sishya and Drona’s sworn enemy. Acharya Drona will play at least as crucial a role in the war as our Pitama. Drupada is a tapasvin, a master of astras; let him lead us into battle.”

Yudhishtira said, “Arjuna, whom do you choose for our general?”

“Let youth confront age and triumph. Let Dhrishtadyumna ride at the head of our army. None better than Drupada’s son to take fire to the enemy.”

“Bheema?”

Bheema said, “If Pitama Bheeshma is to be their Senapati, ours should be the one who has sworn a solemn oath spanning two lives to be the death of Bheeshma. He, too, is Drupada’s son. He is also a kshatriya. Let Shikhandi face Bheeshma and keep his vow.”

Yudhishtira said, “If our army has so many warriors that are fit to lead us, it must indeed be a force to contend with! But night wears on now and we have a choice to make before we sleep. If I had to choose anyone to lead us into war, I would not hesitate but choose Krishna. True, he is younger than some of us; but can anyone match his wisdom? It matters little whether he bears a weapon or not. All our destinies lie in his hands and I will submit to whatever he decides. Krishna, you tell us who our Senapati shall be.”

Krishna said, “It is a hard choice to make. All the kshatriyas you have named could hold up the host of Devaloka. The Kaurava army will perish before any of them.”

“But who shall be our Senapati, Krishna? The soldiers are awake and impatient to hear.”

Krishna said, “I agree with Arjuna. Drupada’s son Dhrishtadyumna is the one to lead us into battle.”

That sabha erupted in cheers and when Yudhishtira sent word to the army, the men were jubilant. Dhrishtadyumna was the choice of most of them, as well. Krishna and Yudhishtira then decided on commanders for each of the seven aksauhinis: Bheema, Nakula, Sahadeva, Dhrishtadyumna, Satyaki, Draupadi’s sons and Abhimanyu. The other kshatriyas were to be free to fight wherever they chose. Tired as they were, those kings of the earth, the soldiers of dharma, turned in for the night. The next day would be a momentous one.

Yudhishtira was up before the sun and, with Dhaumya and his other priests, he worshipped the Gods. He performed the sacred rituals that must be done, before fighting a war. As he finished his worship and the sun rose over Upaplavya, the other kshatriyas emerged from the palace and made their way to the soldiers’ tents. The Kekaya brothers were there, Dhrishtaketu, Sreniman, Vasushena, Virata, Shikhandi, Drupada, Sudharma, Kuntibhoja, the new Senapati Dhrishtadyumna, Anadhr-ishti, Chekitana, Satyaki, the Pandavas and their sons, Abhimanyu and dark Krishna, resplendent.

Dhrishtadyumna went to greet the troops, then the camp at Upaplavya was struck. That endless force moved majestically on foot, horse-and elephant-back and in chariots, singing lustily, to Kuruk-shetra. At last, they arrived at fate’s field, where the war at the end of the yuga would be fought, the war that would change the world. It would end the old order, come down from time out of mind and usher in a new, bizarre age on earth. The warriors all raised their conches and sounded them in thunderous unison; in an oceanic roar from a few million throats, the common soldiers shouted their exultation at the tremendous bass.