THE MAHABHARATA: A Modern Rendering, Vol 2 (20 page)

He gave a short laugh. “But Krishna doesn’t need to carry weapons to give you victory. I know him, we all do. In his hands, the reins of Arjuna’s horses will be more terrible than all the Kauravas’ arrows. Poor Duryodhana, I pity him. What chance has he of winning, when my brother is against him?

But I did not come here to tell you what you already know. Bheema, I see the questions in your eyes. Yes, indeed, you are my sishya and dear to me; but Duryodhana was always my favorite. Why, I love him as much as Krishna does Arjuna. But I will not be part of Duryodhana’s army, though he has sent word begging me to fight for him. How could I even think of fighting against my brother, however much I may abhor what he does?”

He drew a breath. “I mourn the ancient House of Kuru, at war with itself! I mourn the House of Kuru, which no enemy could ever bring down, but which now turns on itself and thus to its doom. Why, I mourn the earth, as we have known it; this war will be its end. Yudhishtira, I have come to tell you I am going on a tirtha-yatra, because I cannot watch this war, let alone fight in it. I cannot watch brother slaughter his noble brother. I am going on a pilgrimage, first to the banks of the Saraswati and then to a hundred other tirthas, to the very south of Bharatavarsha. And I will pray for you all, yes, I will pray for you all.”

Suddenly, tears stood in his eyes. Krishna stepped forward. Balarama rose and clasped his brother in his arms. Choking back his grief, he blessed the five Pandavas. Abruptly, the mighty Yadava stalked out and rode away from Kurukshetra. Krishna had tears in his eyes, too and memories of a wild and wonderful childhood and youth spent with Balarama in the green arms of a virgin forest: enchanted Vrindavana on the banks of the midnight-blue Yamuna.

At about that time, another kshatriya came to Yudhishtira, unexpectedly. Rukmi of Vidarbha, Krishna’s brother-in-law and his sworn enemy, arrived in Kurukshetra with an aksauhini of his own. The world knew how Krishna had once humiliated Rukmi. The Dark One carried away his sister, Rukmini, on the day she was to marry Rukmi’s dearest friend, Sishupala. Since then, Rukmi had secured Siva’s blessing and had become a king of some conquests and influence. Yet, he was known more for his arrogance than his considerable valor; and today he came haughtily before Yudhishtira.

Yudhishtira received his visitor cordially. When Rukmi sat in the royal tent, he began to speak before Yudhishtira could ask what had brought him to Kurukshetra. Rukmi did not address Yudhish-tira at all, but Arjuna.

“I have come to help you win this war, Arjuna! Fear the Kaurava army no more, I am here to raze it for you. Without your lifting your bow, Pandava, I will make corpses of Duryodhana’s best kshatriyas. No matter if they have eleven aksauhinis or a hundred, they will not stand against Rukmi of Bho-jataka.”

He smiled smugly around him, then, declared, “And when I have slain your enemies, I shall make a gift of the earth to you! Fear nothing any more, Arjuna, your war is already won.”

Arjuna’s eyes glittered. He glanced at Krishna, but his cousin was impassive. Tense as he was on the eve of battle, the Pandava flashed angrily at Rukmi, “Dare you come here and speak to me of my being afraid? Rukmi, there are many kshatriyas here, twice as strong as you; none of them has ever mentioned the word fear to me. Who are you, that you dare speak of winning the war for us and of making us a gift of the earth? We have no need for the likes of you. You may stay or leave, as you please.”

For a moment, Rukmi sat very still. Without a word, he rose and walked out of the tent; he left Kurukshetra with his aksauhini. Rukmi rode straight to Duryodhana and spoke to the Kaurava in much the same vein. Duryodhana laughed in his face and the lord of Vidarbha returned to his capital, seething. Thus, Balarama and Rukmi were the only two kings of Bharatavarsha who did not fight the war at Kurukshetra.

The Kaurava army arrived on the banks of the Saraswati and made camp there. The golden river separated the two immense forces and their soldiers stared at one another across the water. Duryo-dhana called his cousin, Shakuni’s son Uluka.

“Take a message from me to the Pandavas, Uluka. Go into the presence of Yudhishtira. Be certain the five brothers are there; be sure Krishna is there and all the kings who are their allies. Then speak boldly to them, your head held high and your words ringing clear. Tell them Duryodhana says: ‘The time for bragging is over, cousins. We shall have no more words, but war. Thirteen years ago, you swore many oaths of the revenge you would take on me and mine. More recently, you sent back an arrogant message to Hastinapura with Sanjaya. The time is here when you cannot brag, or threaten me any more. The time for deeds is here, for keeping the oaths you swore so loudly. The time for arrows and swords and maces is here, the time for war, your time to die.’

Don’t be cowed by them, Uluka, their fame is greater than their worth. Speak defiantly, remember you are Duryodhana’s messenger.”

He took Uluka aside privately and gave him individual messages for each of the Pandavas and one for Krishna. When he heard what he must say to the sons of Pandu, poor Uluka trembled. But he had no choice except go; indeed, Duryodhana thought he was conferring a rare honor on Shakuni’s son by making him his messenger. With trepidation, Uluka set out for Yudhishtira’s camp.

TWENTY-THREE
ULUKA’S EMBASSY 

Uluka arrived uneasily in the Pandava camp. He was shown into Yudhishtira’s presence. All five Pandavas were in the capacious tent; Krishna was there, as well, with some other kings of their alliance. Uluka found his palms clammy with fear. He greeted the Pandavas stiffly and said, “I have come as Duryodhana’s messenger. He sends word through me for each of you. But, Yudhishtira, I am afraid to deliver his messages; I fear for my life if I do.”

Yudhishtira said kindly, “Have no fear, Uluka. A messenger is never to be harmed and I guarantee your safety.”

Uluka drew a deep breath and said, “My cousin and king, Duryodhana, says to you and these words are his, not mine: ‘Yudhishtira, you were my slave once and we dragged your wife into our sabha like a slut. Which kshatriya would have allowed his woman to be treated like that and let the insult go unavenged? If you were ever a man, Pandava, on that day you lost your manhood. We took it from you as Draupadi’s shame.

You spent twelve years in the forest like a beggar. Then you spent one year as Virata’s menial, a calling you are better suited to than kingship. And now you dare come back and challenge me? Yudh-ishtira, the hour of reckoning is here and fine talk of dharma will not serve you any more. This is the moment of truth and it will show you up for what you have always been: a common coward, cousin!’“

Uluka paused. Bheema began to rise, but Yudhishtira motioned him to hold his peace. Yudhish-tira said, “Is that all, Uluka? You said Duryodhana sent messages for my brothers as well.”

“He has. Would you hear them?”

“We must,” said Yudhishtira, with a sad smile.

“Duryodhana says to Bheema, ‘You, braggart, swore to drink Dusasana’s blood. From what we hear, you have become a magnificent cook. Loudmouth, wielding a ladle and wielding a mace are very different things. Carving dead meat is easy, but we shall see how you carve my brother’s heart. Since your skills at cooking have become such a legend, I can offer you work in my kitchen, if you like.’“

Bheema was so taken aback he sat mildly dazed. Uluka didn’t pause for him to recover.

“Duryodhana says to Arjuna, ‘As for you, Arjuna, who boast you will kill Karna, I hear you spent the last year among the women in Virata’s court, teaching them to sing and dance. I hear you have become a eunuch, cousin. How can a eunuch even think of fighting Karna?

Nakula and Sahadeva, their mother’s darlings, have also found their true vocation with Virata. Boys, I could find work for you too in my stables and cowsheds. But then, you have sworn to kill my uncle Shakuni and his son, haven’t you? I fear you will be meat for scavengers before I can employ you.

Yudhishtira, your lofty dharma has finally led you and your brothers to my quenchless army. Prepare to meet your God.’“

Uluka paused, red-faced; he glanced anxiously at Krishna. Complete silence had fallen in that tent. Krishna said smoothly, “I am sure Duryodhana sent a message for me, Uluka. We are eager to hear it.”

Uluka hesitated. The Dark One said, “You have our word you will not be harmed, whatever message you bring.”

Bracing himself, Uluka said, “Duryodhana sends this message to you, Krishna. ‘We are not fooled by your magic trick in Hastinapura. You spoke brave words that day. You said you would destroy the world with Arjuna and Bheema beside you. Cowherd, this is not Vrindavana where you seduced the gopikas with piping and dancing. This is war and we are kshatriyas. We are not impressed by your ludicrous fame as the Avatara. We laugh at these grandmother’s tales and at your conjuring.’“

The Pandavas looked like fire just kindled. At the insult to Krishna, Bheema began to get up again, growling. Uluka was certain his last moment on earth had arrived. Krishna nodded to Bheema to sit down.

Calmly, Krishna said to Uluka, “Go back safely to your cousin, Uluka and take him this message from me. Tell him Krishna says, ‘Evil one, you have not lived like a kshatriya; at least, let us see you die like one. Duryodhana, you dare send such a message to me today because you know I have sworn not to fight. Otherwise, your army would burn even now like dry grass in a forest-fire. But Yudhishtira has asked me to carry no arms during this war. He says revenge belongs to him and his brothers and I have sworn to be just Arjuna’s sarathy.

But I also swear, Duryodhana, my warrior’s chariot will strike terror in your heart. Asleep or awake, you will see my horses. In your dreams, you will hear their hooves drumming your death. You will see Bheema kill your hundred brothers. You will see him drink Dusasana’s blood; and you will not be asleep or dreaming when the ghastly sight lights your eyes, though you will wish you were. All that the Pandavas have sworn they will do. You forswear yourself as you please; but their oaths are solemn and each word of them shall be kept.’

Take my message to your king, Uluka.”

Bheema growled, “Tell Duryodhana Bheema hasn’t forgotten a syllable of what he swore. Tell him to be prepared to see all his brothers die on Kurukshetra, his sons and nephews as well. Tell him when those gruesome sights darken his eyes and break his heart, he will remember this message bitterly. He will see me drink Dusasana’s blood. Finally, he may hide himself in heaven, earth or hell, but I will hunt him down and break his thigh, as I swore. And he will die.”

The smoldering Bheema sat down, much to Uluka’s relief. Shakuni’s prince was afraid that, at any moment, the son of the wind might change his mind about keeping Yudhishtira’s word and kill the messenger.

Grimly, Arjuna said, “Your king is beneath contempt. He is such a coward that he has made Bheeshma his Senapati. Has he no shred of shame that he calls an old man to defend him? If Duryodhana thinks Arjuna will stay his hand because his Pitama takes the field, he is mistaken. I will kill my grandfather if I have to. If Bheeshma comes to fight, he will die. One by one, every warrior who fights against us, every kshatriya Duryodhana relies on to secure his evil purpose, will fall. And at last my brother Bheema will kill your king. Tell our cousin that Arjuna says the Pandavas do not make empty threats; what we have sworn, we will do. Let him be ready to die.”

With these fierce messages, Uluka went back to Duryodhana. Night had fallen and Duryodhana’s mocking laughter echoed among the campfires when he heard what Krishna and the Pandavas said.

He cried, “They are afraid! They know their army will not last a day against Bheeshma; I need no other other kshatriya. Arjuna speaks bravely, but his heart quails within him. I know him. He will hardly dare fight when he sees our grandfather take the field.”

There was drinking and celebration in the Kaurava camp. Then, Duryodhana and his warriors slept; a sleep of those who felt more confident than they should have.

Across the darkling Saraswati, Yudhishtira could not sleep. Krishna and Arjuna sat up with him, while the moon rose over the river, setting her currents alight in burning silver.

Into the silence of the midnight hour, Yudhishtira said, “Krishna, I feel sick at the thought of this war. Darkness has come over us all, Krishna, as if the age is perverted. How can I feel anything but horror, when I think we must attack our Pitama with arrows tomorrow?”

In rare anger, Krishna snapped at him, “This is no time for regrets! It is a great war you face tomorrow. You are the lord of this army. How will your soldiers fight if their master is so hesitant? For you there is no sin in this war, Yudhishtira, your kshatriya dharma is to fight.”

Krishna’s eyes shone in the firelight. “When I was in Hastinapura, there was only one voice I heard raised unambiguously against Duryodhana, Vidura’s. Bheeshma was there, but I heard no strong words from him against your cousin; nor from your precious Acharyas, Drona and Kripa. I thought to myself, aren’t the Pandavas also Bheeshma’s grandsons; why does he love only Duryodhana so much? Aren’t Yudhishtira and his brothers Drona’s and Kripa’s sishyas; why are the brahmanas so loyal to Duryodhana? If your Pitama loved you as much as he should, Yudhishtira, would he agree to be Duryodhana’s Senapati? I hear the only condition he made was that Karna would not fight beside him.”

It is uncertain if what Krishna said was more for Yudhishtira to hear, or Arjuna. Yudhishtira said, unsteadily, “Arjuna, I spent thirteen years in the wilderness to avoid fighting our cousins. Bheema wanted war, even you did. I begged you to be patient and you were noble enough to respect my wishes. Yet, here we are on the brink of this hideous war. Oh, my brother, the kali yuga is upon us and the God of wrath has been born into the world.” He sobbed, “How will we kill our grandfather and our gurus, whom we have worshipped all these years? Whatever you might say, Krishna, this is a sin!