Krishnavatara VII: The Book of Yudhishthira Read online

  ‘Nothing, Brother,’ replied Yudhishthira, with a forced smile on his lips.

  ‘Something has gone wrong,’ insisted Bhima.

  ‘Nothing, nothing. Only I did not sleep well last night,’ replied Yudhisthira.

  At dinner time, as Mother Kunti, according to her habit, served the meal to her sons with her own hands, she observed: ‘Eldest, what is the matter? You seem to be unhappy.’

  Yudhishthira waved away the servants. When only the members of the family were left, Mother Kunti again asked: ‘Why are you unhappy, my son?’

  ‘I did not sleep well last night,’ replied Yudhishthira. He had to keep his lifelong pledge—never to utter an untruth. He cleared his throat and repeated. ‘Nothing is the matter with me’. Then he lowered his voice and added: ‘Only I received a message.’

  ‘A message! From whom?’ asked Mother Kunti with concern.

  ‘From our noble father’, replied Yudhishthira in a whisper, looking around to see whether any servant was within hearing distance.

  Mother Kunti went pale. ‘From your noble father?’

  ‘Yes, Mother. Narada Muni gave me the message yesterday night,’ replied Yudhishthira.

  Bhima shook his head to assure himself that he was not dreaming. ‘Are you sure that it was Narada Muni?’ he asked. ‘I wish I had been there to find out who he was.’

  ‘No doubt it was he, the conscience-keeper of the Gods, who roams over our Land of Mortals, the Heavens and the Nether Regions. I recognized him by his divine music.’

  ‘And where is he now, lord?’ enquired Draupadi.

  ‘He gave the message and faded away,’ said Yudhishthira.

  ‘Are you sure?’ asked Bhima. ‘You should have called me’.

  ‘It was not like reality exactly. But I did see him, as I see you now. It could not have been a dream; it was so vivid.’

  ‘What was the message?’ enquired Mother Kunti.

  The message echoed in his mind insistently. A little afraid, Yudhishthira replied: ‘Our noble father wants us to perform the Rajasuya yajna.’

  Tears sprang to Mother Kunti’s eyes. ‘Are you sure that it was a message from the lord?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes, so the Muni said. Unless we perform the Rajasuya yajna, our noble father will not find a place among the Chakravartis in the Land of the Ancients’, said Yudhishthira.

  ‘Are you sure that it was Narada Muni whom you heard, and no dream?’ asked Arjuna. The idea of an unearthly visitation disturbed him.

  ‘It was so real, Brother. I cannot say whether it was a dream or not, but I am sure, the message was from our noble father. Yesterday Mother told us that Father’s only regret was that he had not been able to perform the Rajasuya.’

  Seeing Yudhishthira so miserable, Mother Kunti, by a gesture, asked everyone to leave him alone and herself went out with them.

  For a few days, Yudhishthira remained dazed. His father’s Message was insistent. He could not shake it off.

  On the following days, his brothers, mother, Draupadi and the other women-folk anxiously continued to observe the change in him; he appeared to be disconsolate. They did not know that no sooner did he think of the horrors of war, than the pressure of the Message increased.

  On the following day, at a family gathering, when Yudhishthira was not his normal self, Bhima told him: ‘Look here, Eldest, we were all thinking of performing the Rajasuya. Now that Father’s Message has come, it must be obeyed.’

  ‘Lord, we must perform the Rajasuya,’ Draupadi declared in agreement with Bhima.

  Bhima was happy beyond words. ‘It cannot be a dream. I am sure father must be unhappy at our foolishness in not performing the Rajasuya. We will now perform it’.

  Arjuna was also happy at the prospect of performing the Rajasuya. It meant military campaigns— a change from the placid days they were having. He said: ‘Father, must have sent the message; he was such a great warrior.’

  Yudhishthira turned to Nakula.

  ‘We must celebrate the Rajasuya. A hundred war-chariots are ready to go on a conquering mission,’ said Nakula.

  ‘Let us postpone the decision for a while,’ said Yudhishthira. ‘I am not feeling quite equal to coming to a decision now.’ He then turned to Sahadeva. ‘What is your advice?’ he asked.

  Sahadeva, who rarely opened his lips, said: ‘Leave it to Krishna.’

  ‘I was just going to suggest that’, said Draupadi.

  Everyone felt relieved.

  ‘It is only a few months since he went to Dwaraka,’ said Yudhishthira. ‘He will be loathe to come again.’

  Bhima turned to Nakula in mock anger. ‘Nakula, you go to Dwaraka and fetch Krishna. Tell him, I won’t leave him to himself in Dwaraka. If he says ‘no’, kidnap him in the same way as he kidnapped Rukmini’. He laughed aloud; he always enjoyed his own jokes. ‘Your horses are becoming too fat munching gram the whole day, to be useful in a war. They need some exercise, and you also’.

  ‘Let us invite the Master also,’ said Mother Kunti.

  ‘Without his blessing, we cannot celebrate the Rajasuya.’

  ‘Now, Sahadeva, we cannot leave you doing nothing here. You had better go to Dharmakshetra and invite the Master,’ said Bhima.

  3. RAJASUYA—TO BE PERFORMED OR NOT TO BE PERFORMED

  About a month later, the Master, Krishna Dvaipaayana, accompanied by his disciples, arrived at Indraprastha by boat. A few days later, Krishna Vaasudeva also came from Dwaraka; he was accompanied by Uddhava and several maharathis, riding in chariots.

  The town wore a festive look; the arrival of the two Krishnas—one revered, the other adored—was a rare event.

  The Master naturally was the guest of his disciple, Acharya Dhaumya, the royal preceptor.

  Krishna stayed in the royal mansions where all the Five Brothers with their families lived. He received an affectionate welcome.

  After a while, the members of the family, other than the children, left. Soon Bhima returned to appraise Krishna of the situation. The children, however, would not let them be. The five sons of Draupadi, led by Prativindhya, the son of Yudhishthira, gave a boisterous welcome to Krishna. They would not leave him, for each one wanted Krishna to embrace him, and when Krishna did so, they danced for joy.

  Abhimanyu, Arjuna’s son by Subhadra, the younger sister of Krishna, jumped out of his mother’s arms and would have fallen to the ground, had not Krishna caught hold of him.

  Bhima was indignant. ‘Krishna stop humouring these little rascals. They love you more than they love us,’ he said.

  ‘Then there must be something wrong with you,’ said Krishna. ‘Isn’t that so, Prativindhya?’ he asked Yudhishthira’s eldest son, who nodded assent.

  ‘You are going against the ancient canons, Krishna,’ said Bhima. ‘They prescribe that the father and the mother are gods, and not the maternal uncle.’

  Krishna whistled and Abhimanyu smiled. Krishna pressed his cheeks. ‘You love me more than you love your father and mother, do you not, little fat fellow?’ He tickled the boy under his chin, and he responded by a broad sweet smile expressing his satisfaction by a gurgle. Krishna handed back the boy to his mother.

  ‘They do not love me more than you do, Bhima. They only express their love for me, which you do not know how to express,’ said Krishna.

  ‘Words, words, words,’ said Bhima in mock anger. ‘I know how to express my love for you, but if I did, you might be smothered in my embrace and I do not want to kill you just now; the time may come when I will do so.’

  ‘Try, replied Krishna. ‘It may be that you would kill yourself.’

  Everyone laughed. The children jumped for joy; it would be a great fun if father and uncle tried to kill each other.

  The next day, after the morning rituals were over, a conclave was held in Acharya Dhaumya’s ashram around the vedi (altar), on which the sacred fire had been lit and worshipped by the Master. Besides the Master and Acharya Dhaumya, Krishna, Uddhava, the Five Brothers, Mother Kunti and Dr
aupadi were there.

  There was an air of informality at this gathering. The princes were without their diadems, nor did they carry any arms, as was their usual habit. The Master had not even entwined his greying locks, which were spread over his back. Acharya Dhaumya, however, had entwined his locks, for he could not meet his guru—the Master—without doing that.

  The Master was surprised at the transformation which had taken place in Krishna. His body was as smooth, his eyes as bright and expressive, and his look as youthful as ever. The Master had admired him, his sanity of outlook and his resourcefulness; however, a new dignity—or rather the majesty of a god—was stamped on his face.

  The Master had been seriously perturbed at the misfortunes that had overtaken the royal houses of the Kurus time and again. His own words addressed to the venerable Mother, Satyavati, came to his mind again and again:

  “Till I am called away by the Gods, I will live for dharma. And as the Kurus are not going to produce a Chakravarti, the God Surya will direct my steps to one born to be Sasvat-dharma-gupta, the protector of eternal dharma, who will root out the wicked and re-establish dharma. This will happen, I am sure.”

  They were prophetic words, he realized.

  Where was God Surya leading him to discover the defender of dharma?

  The Master blessed Krishna. He suppressed a sigh. He could not help wishing that, if he had been born to a king, he might have possibly become a Chakravarti. An over-all authority in Aryavarta which could stand true to dharma was necessary, more so now than ever before.

  However, he did not let his thoughts run their course. He must wait on events. The appointed man would come if and when the God Surya wished.

  After a preliminary conversation, the Master said: ‘Yudhishthira, let us know fully the situation which led you to call us. It must be a matter of great importance.’

  ‘Not only of great, but of vital importance,’ replied Yudhishthira. He could hear the swift whish of the Message as it took possession of his mind. ‘We want your help in deciding the momentous question before us: should we or not perform the Rajasuya?’ Then he narrated how his father’s wish to perform Rajasuya in his lifetime had remained unfulfilled; how Narada Muni, the conscience keeper of the Gods, had brought the message of King Pandu from the Land of the Ancestors.

  After narrating the event, Yudhishthira could not express what he really felt; the Message rang out peremptorily and he had to submit to it. ‘My brothers want our father’s mandate to be obeyed.’ Helplessly he added: ‘And rightly.’

  ‘What is your brothers’ view?’ asked the Master.

  Bhima interjected: ‘Master, we have conquered several kings. Our hegemony has been accepted by several others. We now want to perform the Rajasuya. We want your blessing and the advice of Krishna.’

  The Master turned to Sahadeva with a smile. ‘Sahadeva, you have the gift of prophecy, but you never open your lips unless a question is put to you. Has the auspicious moment come when your warriors can go into action?’

  Sahadeva pointed a finger at Krishna and said: ‘Ask him,’ and then lapsed into silence.

  ‘Now, what is the difficulty?’ asked the Master.

  ‘There is no difficulty,’ replied Bhima. We want your blessing, venerable Master. If we perform the Rajasuya, you will have to preside over it.’

  ‘Yes, you will have my blessing, and if need be, I shall preside over the Rajasuya as the Brahmaa,’[6] replied the Master.

  ‘Venerable Master,’ said Yudhishthira, ‘do you think it desirable to hold the Rajasuya?’

  ‘Not for the reasons that you think of, but for reasons of my own,’ replied the Master.

  ‘What are they, venerable Master?’ asked Yudhishthira.

  ‘The Rajasuya will bring together important Srotriyas, and wherever necessary, the chants of the WORD will be restored to their original perfection. And any deviation from righteous living will be corrected too. The authority of the WORD will be strengthened.’

  ‘How long is it since you have taken part in one of the major sacrificial ceremonies?’ asked Yudhishthira.

  ‘I took an active part when the Emperor Shantanu celebrated the Vajpeya and I could see that its influence was felt for about twenty years. I was then about twenty years old.’

  ‘But is it necessary to go to war only to have the satisfaction of performing the Rajasuya?’ asked Yudhishthira.

  ‘We don’t want a war. But if the kings want to keep peaceful relations with us, let them accept our overlordship,’ said Bhima airily.

  Yudhishthira shook his head. Before the Message could take possession of him and force him to say what he did not feel, he asked: ‘Is overlordship so important?’

  He saw the eyes of everyone fixed on him in surprise. Was Yudhishthira going to disown faith in kshaatra-dharma?

  ‘I am willing to fulfil the wishes of our noble father.

  We cannot but fulfill them. But, …….’

  ‘No, “buts”, noble Eldest,’ said Bhima sternly. ‘Our father’s mandate is peremptory. It has to be obeyed.’

  So far, Yudhishthira had spoken haltingly under the pressure of the Message. Now it left him no choice.

  ‘We leave to obey the mandate of our noble father.’ Then he muttered: ‘But I hate wars.’

  The Message would not have Yudhishthira in peace; he made a declaration which he felt was not his: ‘I know that the Rajasuya will bring back the erring kshatriyas to the path of kshaatra-dharma.’

  ‘Most kings will accept our hegemony, for by overlordship we only want to ensure that they follow the path of dharma,’ said Bhima.

  The Master held up his hand for a moment, and then turned to Krishna and asked: ‘Noble Vaasudeva, what do you think about it?’

  Krishna adjusted his scarf and said; ‘As the Master wishes’. He paused for a moment and continued: ‘Venerable Master, the noble Yudhishthira has attained the position of a Chakravarti, but not the status.’

  ‘That position is solely due to you, Krishna; I have had nothing to do with it,’ Yudhishthira corrected.

  Krishna laughed. ‘Don’t be unjust to yourself, Eldest,’ he said and then continued in slow, deliberate accents; ‘Rajasuya is not merely a sacrificial session to please the Gods and fulfill our obligation to the ancestors. It will bring back the erring Srotriyas to austere living and the tradition of kshaatra-dharma will be strengthened.’

  The Master nodded assent. ‘You are quite right, noble Vaasudeva.’

  Krishna continued: ‘It will bring together not only Srotriyas and kings, but also ordinary men and women; they will realize that dharma alone will bring them happiness. It will rejuvenate the Aryas.’

  Bhima burst out laughing. ‘Krishna, I wish I could have recited the benefits of a Rajasuya as wonderfully as you have done. Then we would not have needed your presence here.’

  Krishna laughed. ‘I am sure, you are not so selfish as to deny me the credit.’

  Yudhishthira again felt the Message pressing on his mind. He could not but nod acquiescence. However, hesitatingly he observed: ‘We must not forget the misery which a war will entail: loss of life, loss of wealth, the break-up of homes and the destruction of ashrams.’

  Krishna gauged Yudhishthira’s instinctive dislike of a war. Left to himself, the Eldest would not embark on a single military conflict.

  ‘Brother,’ said Krishna, ‘you have truly described the effects of war. But we have to weigh them against the plight of men if sacrificial sessions like the Rajasuya are not held from time to time. Dharma would lose its supremacy over men; the kings would behave irresponsibly; righteous living would be forgotten; families would be broken up; the Srotriyas would give up austere living; the potency of the WORD would be lost.’

  The Master looked at Krishna with admiring eyes; he himself could not have put it better. He was struck by the clarity of Krishna’s mind. He sighed. The Yadava chief had all the attributes of a Chakravarti, the Protector of Dharma. Unfortunately, he was not a king, and n
o king would accept his overlordship.

  4. MEGHASANDHI’S MESSAGE

  Krishna paused for a moment and continued: ‘I take it that our military strength is adequate to win a war. But does it give confidence to the Rajanyas (kings and chiefs) that righteous living—dharma—can always overcome wickedness, adharma?’

  ‘You are right, noble Vaasudeva,’ said the Master. ‘That is why before Rajasuya is performed, we have to undertake military campaigns, not with a view, to subjugating any Rajanya, but to secure his partnership in our moral guardianship’.

  Krishna then turned to Arjuna and asked: ‘Have you a strong band of chariot-warriors with their followers and master archers?’

  ‘Yes,’ replied Arjuna. ‘We have twenty atirathis and forty-three maharathis ready with their full equipment and a following of archers.’

  ‘What about you, Nakula?’ asked Krishna.

  ‘Our horses are in perfect condition, neighing impatiently for war,’ replied Nakula.

  Krishna, flashing a winning smile, turned to Arjuna and Nakula and asked: ‘Are you sure that the military leaders who support you, are convinced that you are fighting for dharma, not for conquest?’

  ‘We—I mean, all our military leaders—are inspired by a sense of a mission to maintain dharma, and in particular kshaatra-dharma,’ said Bhima.

  ‘We have already attained a high position among the Arya kings. Is that not enough?’ asked Yudhishthira.

  Krishna placed a finger on his chin. ‘Eldest, when you have reached a certain eminence, you must be ready to reach out to a higher eminence; otherwise you will be torn to pieces,’ he said.

  Bhima could not but look with admiration at Krishna. ‘That is exactly what I think. Our next step should be to extend our hegemony over kings who have not accepted our overlordship. We shall overcome all our enemies’.

  ‘Can we not bring it about without a Rajasuya?’ asked Yudhishthira. But he lapsed into silence as his father’s Message seized his mind.