Krishnavatara III: The Five Brothers Page 5

  Hard as he tried, Dronacharya could not dominate Yudhishthira. At all times, the young Prince was fair, just, correct and cordial, but firm in his determination to fulfil his royal duties conscientiously. Intrigues did not affect him. He sought advice from many, but accepted guidance from no one except Grandfather Bhishma, and he governed the empire to the satisfaction of all concerned.

  Then the blow fell. Without even mentioning the matter to him, Yudhishthira sent an invitation to Krishna Vaasudeva of Dwaraka to visit Hastinapura. He also heard that Drupada, his enemy, had offered his daughter to Krishna.

  All the fabric of power which he had built up was threatened. For some years, he had received reports about the formidable exploits of Krishna, but so far it had caused him no worry, for the Yadava hero was too far away to be of any significance. But now he was coming. His cousin, Uddhava, was actually arriving in Hastinapura within a week to announce his arrival.

  The crisis had to be met, and met with cold-blooded decisiveness. Yudhishthira could not be permitted to ally himself with Krishna. In no event was it to be thought of, if Krishna was to wed Drupada's daughter.

  Drona carefully considered all the possible moves on the chess-board. He had to checkmate this new move of Yudhishthira's. Yudhishthira, in matters of State, was not pliable. Bhima and Arjuna could not be parted from Yudhishthira. Bhishma was not likely to refuse an alliance between the Kurus and the Yadavas.

  The game which he had been playing all through his life bad suddenly changed shape. It demanded drastic moves. The Five Brothers must not rule in Hastinapura if he was to have his way.

  The only course left was to inflame the rivalry between the Five Brothers and Duryodhana and his brothers. He himself had no confidence in Duryodhana's character or ability; but his son Aswatthama, he knew, provided Duryodhana with fire and energy. So far it had been his influence over Duryodhana exercised through his son which had prevented Duryodhana and his friends from taking violent steps to displace Yudhishthira.

  It was the most decisive moment of his own life. He had to make the final bid for assuming complete power over the Kurus, which was only possible with Duryodhana as the yuvaraja. True, he was unstable, insolent, badly advised, but he would be an easier instrument in his hands than the righteous Yudhishthira.

  Drona clapped his hands and ordered the servitor, who came in response to his call, with folded hands, to send for his son, Aswatthama. The teacher went on feeding the fish and the tortoises.

  Aswatthama soon came and prostrated himself before his father. Unlike his father, he was a tall and well-built man with large eyes and apparently an impatient temper.

  'I want to talk to you, my son,' said Dronacharya, his face showing a winning smile, which he could assume whenever it suited his purpose.

  'As my venerable father pleases,' said Aswatthama.

  'You were displeased with me the other day when I told you that the salvation of the Kurus was in the hands of the Five Brothers. You told me that I was unjust to Duryodhana and his brothers.'

  Aswatthama's eyes were full of annoyance, but he lowered them out of respect. 'I was sorry to have said so, but, venerable father, if I do not tell you what we feel, to whom should we say it?' These words, though humble in their meaning, were not spoken in humility; they suggested suppressed displeasure.

  Dronacharya smiled affectionately. 'Son, I have thought over what you said. There is some truth in it. I have not been fair to all my pupils equally, as I should have been.'

  Aswatthama looked up in surprise. This was almost the first time that he had found his father confessing that he was wrong. He did not know what was coming next and waited.

  'Have you told Duryodhana what I said to you?' asked Dronacharya.

  'Yes, venerable father,' replied Aswatthama.

  'You are now free to tell Duryodhana that I do not propose to take sides in his quarrel with the Five Brothers,' said Dronacharya with a show of fairness.

  'Oh, Father, I am so pleased!' exclaimed Aswatthama happily. 'May I have your permission to go and convey to Duryodhana what you have now said? Now we can see our way.'

  'Yes, my son, you have my blessing.'

  As Aswatthama hastily left his father, Dronacharya threw a handful of gram to the fish and the tortoises, and smiled to himself. It was a smile of supreme satisfaction, for he felt that his mind retained the same crystal clarity which had characterised him throughout life. He could cut any knot with uncanny precision without being affected by sentiment. Yes, he had done it more than once in the past.

  A Nishada boy, Ekalavya by name, once, had fallen at his feet begging to be trained in archery. He had refused him. His mastery in bowmanship was not to be distributed freely to all pupils who might or might not be useful to him. He was going to concentrate on the Kuru princes-among them, above all, on Arjuna, the left-handed bowman of immense promise.

  Now, the picture of Ekalavya rose before the teacher's mind. The boy had a blind devotion to him, and would not take a refusal. He had gone to his forest home, constructed an image of himself and, in his name, practised archery and gained perfection.

  When he learnt about it, Drona at first had felt very proud. Students could learn archery not only under his direct guidance, but even under his distant inspiration!

  But the moment he saw the supreme bowmanship of Ekalavya, he sensed the danger which lay in a Nishada boy raising a generation of Nishadas to practice advance archery, of which he was the master. That could not be allowed to happen; it would come in the way of his personal ambition. Ekalavya would some day overcome Arjuna and all his other pupils, and his project of building power with the aid of the Kuru princes would come to naught.

  The foolish, trusting Nishada boy, true to tradition, wanted to give Drona the present due to his guru on completion of his studies. At that moment, Drona saw the way to avert the danger. He asked the boy to give him the thumb of his right hand as a present!

  It was a terrible thing he had asked for; it would make the poor boy utterly useless as an archer. But Drona could not allow anyone to stand in his way. Ekalavya's skill must be made entirely ineffective.

  The Nishada boy fell at his feet, and begged of him to spare his thumb without which he could not speed an arrow. But he, Drona, was not to be shaken in his calculated decision.

  He now remembered the words that he had then spoken: 'My boy, either you give me the present of your thumb or you can have your skill as a free gift.'

  'No, no,' the boy answered, tears rolling down his cheeks. 'You have been to me the master not only of my skill, but of my body and soul. I have lived all these years in the hope of pleasing you. I shall not fall.'

  With a broken heart, the brave boy took the blade of his arrow, cut off his thumb and presented it to him. For a moment his heart, he recollected, had moved. He had been inclined to countermand the order. But no! He could not permit a pupil of his to thwart his ambition. He accepted the bleeding thumb as a present, blessed the boy and came away. And he was not sorry for it. Today he had a similar crisis to deal with. But now he had not merely to ask for the thumb of his pupil. He had to remove five of his favourite pupils-and among them, his dearest-to clear his path.

  After all he was Drona and no one should stand in his way.

  5. THE UNCLE'S COMMANDS

  The mansion of the Five Brothers in Hastinapura stood near the palace of King Dhritarashtra. Persons wanting to meet one or other of them on affairs of State, waited on the verandah in front. Archers with bows and arrows stood guard at its gates.

  In one of the long corridors of their mansion overlooking the wide expanse of the river Ganga, Uddhava sat talking to Arjuna, the third of the Five Brothers, who was sharpening the blades of the arrows of the giant bow at his side. The corridor was full of all sorts of arms-maces, swords, battle-axes, tridents, spears and bows of various size and strength with a variety of arrows. This was the arsenal of Bhima and Arjuna.

  In that age when battles were fought and won by the p
rowess and skill of individual warriors, every warrior worth the name had to fabricate his arms to suit his strength and skill.

  Arjuna was not merely a master bowman, but could make his own weapons and give them an edge and potency peculiarly his own. The gods had given him the skill to make his arrows more deadly than any on earth and he had the eye and the skill to speed them as he liked.

  Uddhava and Arjuna were both of medium height. Their bodies showed long and continuous training in wrestling and in arms.

  Uddhava had regular and attractive features, which, however, bore the stamp of an austere mind. His general behaviour too showed a habit of conscious self-restraint. His eyes also bespoke a seriousness not commonly found in a man of his years.

  His cousin, Arjuna-Mother Kunti being the sister of Uddhava's father, Devabhaga-was different. He was well shaped and graceful in every limb. His face, fairer than uddhava's, was strikingly handsome. His eyes were intelligent, his brow noble. His voice was well modulated and his smile sensuous. There was also an air of temperamental fastidiousness about the dress and ornaments he wore.

  When Uddhava had arrived in the morning, Bhima and Arjuna had received him at the city gates. When he was brought home, all the Five Brothers and their Mother, Kunti, had given him an affectionate welcome and made enquiries about his family. Uddhava had informed them of the purpose of his visit to Hastinapura. He had come to announce that Krishna was arriving within a few weeks in response to Yudhishthira's invitation.

  Yudhishthira had left for the royal palace to join the parishad, the assembly of experts, with whose assistance he transacted the affairs of State and dispensed justice to the citizens. Sahadeva, the youngest of the Five Brothers, had gone with him; he had already come to be recognised as an authority on the ancient laws of the Aryas and worked as a member of the parishad when it advised Yudhishthira.

  Bhima and Nakula had also left to attend to their work and Mother Kunti had gone to the kitchen to get the meal prepared for them.

  When Uddhava enquired about the affairs of Hastinapura, Arjuna told him all that was happening to them.

  'Uddhava now you see how unhappy we are though our Eldest1 is the yuvaraja,' said Arjuna with a genial smile which made light of the import of his words.

  'But, by all accounts, the Eldest is loved by Grandfather Bhishma and also by the chiefs and the people,' said Uddhava.

  'Yes,' replied Arjuna with a touch of sarcasm, taking up a fresh blade to sharpen. 'Our Eldest rules over the Kurus but his commands are defied by our cousins and their friends. People love us and shower blessings on us; and every day our cousins plan to destroy us.'

  Uddhava could not help comparing Arjuna's smile with that of his friend Krishna; yet he discovered a difference. This smile was fascinating and evoked friendliness; the other was enchanting and won hearts.

  'It is very strange of Duryodhana to behave so,' said Uddhava. 'You have brought fresh renown to the house of the Kurus-the Eldest by his righteous ways, Madhyama2 and you by your valour. Anyone else would have been proud of you.'

  '- and Nakula by the wonderful horses he has trained and Sahadeva by his uncanny wisdom,' interrupted Arjuna with an affectionate twinkle in his eyes as if Uddhava had done an injustice to his younger brothers whom he loved so well. Then he laughed. 'But that is our misfortune.'

  Arjuna paused for a while. Then, weighing his words, he proceeded: 'Our cousins hate us for what we are. Duryodhana thinks that brother Yudhishthira has usurped his place as Crown Prince; he could never forgive his father for being born blind,' added Arjuna with a wink and smile. 'That cost him a throne.'

  'But your father was the last king of the Kurus and a good one too,' said Uddhava. 'And according to our ancient canons, the Eldest has right to succeed to the kingship.'

  'That is true,' said Arjuna, giving a proud smile at the mention of his father. 'That is why Grandfather Bhishma decided that the Eldest should be the Crown Prince. But our cousins will not accept that decision.'

  'But obviously you are qualified to rule,' said Uddhava.

  That is the trouble,' said Arjuna with a smile. 'Our cousins hate us because we excel them in skill in arms, win victories and bring wealth to Hastinapura and our Eldest commands the love of the people. They would particularly like to murder Bhima, for he makes them look foolish every time they try to humiliate us.'

  'I can't blame them either,' said Uddhava with his usual sense of fairness. 'You are all so good, so brave and so lovable. I am myself jealous of you.'

  'Brother Uddhava, I wish we had not been born into a royal family,' said Arjuna. Then we would have come with you to Dwaraka and lived happily with Krishna and Balarama.'

  'Oh, we would welcome you heartily if you ever came to us,' said Uddhava, for a moment allowing a little warmth to creep into his even voice. 'Krishna loves you so much. He has never forgotten the happy days he spent with you.'

  Arjuna smiled a little apologetically. 'Nor has Bhima ever forgotten the attention which Krishna and Balarama showered on him when he was in Mathura. And I often dream of the days when Krishna and myself as boys lay side by side talking sometimes till the morning star rose.'

  'Oh, Bhima was so good. We all loved him so,' said Uddhava, carried away for a moment by the memory of Bhima's visit in the happy days at Mathura. 'And he was so fond of all of us.'

  Arjuna was thoughtful for a minute. 'We would have left Hastinapura in disgust long ago. But if we did so, it would break the Grandfather's heart.'

  'Why? If he can't keep your cousins in check, he should give you a separate principality to rule. That would be the best way to end this torture,' said Uddhava.

  'Uddhava, Grandfather has borne a heavy burden throughout life,' replied Arjuna with fairness. 'When young, he gave a pledge to his father, the Emperor Shantanu of glorious memory, to see that the royal house of the Kurus was maintained in greatness, upholding the rule of Dharma. To fu1fil that mission, he has sacrificed everything. Now that our cousins are proving so irrepressible, he thinks we alone can help him to carry out his mission.' Then Arjuna's face became solemn as he added: 'And that is what Bhagavan Veda Vyasa thinks, too. When he last came, he told us: ''My boys, you must not swerve from your appointed task. The future of Dharma is bound up with you".'

  'Then why don't they do something about Duryodhana and his brothers?' Uddhava asked.

  Arjuna looked up, and, with a laugh that rang out pleasantly, asked: 'What can the righteous do to the unrighteous? They will meet their own doom in their own time. At present they have rallied a few chiefs to their side.' And Arjuna looked cautiously at the door to see that no one was within earshot and added in a voice which showed how distressed he was: 'And Guru Dronacharya has, we hear, withdrawn his support from us.'

  Both of them looked up as the echoes of a heavy tread were heard coming towards them.

  'Arjuna, I have arranged everything.' came the loud cheery voice of Bhima, the second of the Five Brothers, as he came in. Taller than Arjuna by a cubit, sturdy beyond the measure of men, with his muscular neck standing out like a pillar from his massive shoulders, he was the very image of irresistible strength. His face bore a broad smile and his deep, resonant voice had a rare heartiness as he addressed Uddhava.

  Arjuna put aside the blade that he was sharpening, and asked: What have you arranged, Madhyama?'

  Bhima sat down on a seat which lay in front of the others. 'Duryodhana and Shakuni, his uncle, his mother's brother, have planned a sinister action. Aswatthama has thrown himself into the fray with vehement energy. One of these nights they want to kill us,' Bhima said gaily, as if he was talking about some sport.

  'How have you come to know of this?' said Uddhava.

  'Sahadeva learned of the plot and told me. Perhaps uncle Vidura told him about it. So I decided to beat them at their own game,' he said with a boyish laugh, and added: 'We are now ready. Arjuna, prepare your arrows on which you waste so much of your time. I have already put guards around the house. When they attack as, we w
ill finish them off. Won't we. Arjuna?'

  Bhima rubbed his hands in glee and added: 'I would like to smash the head of Duryodhana and break the neck of that charioteer's son, Kama.' He breathed a stentorian sigh of satisfaction as tf he had already disposed of their enemies.

  'Now, Madhyama, don't be so wicked. Nothing is going to happen to us,' said Arjuna, winking at Uddhava to impress upon him that such outbursts were not uncommon with Bhima.

  Bhima looked up proudly. 'I was born to destroy the wicked,' he said with complete self-confidence. Then he flung an indulgent smile at Arjuna. 'I am not a weakling like you, nor a saint like Yudhishthira. If they fight, I fight, and if I fight, I win'.

  'But is there no way to stop this family feud? If you try to kill each other, you will shake the foundations of the power of the Kurus,' said Uddhava. 'It might destroy the whole of Aryavarta.'

  'Aryavarta requires to be shaken to its foundations', replied Bhima indifferently. Then he added with an air of finality: 'You cannot stand for ever in fear of wilesand violence, and you cannot compromise with untruth. So, Arjuna, you had better sharpen your arrows this time in real earnest; it is going to be a fight to the finish.'

  They did not notice that Mother Kunti, who had come in to call them to their meal, had heard Bhima’s last words.

  'Bhima, don't always talk of fighting; it frightens me,' said Prithaa, the adopted daughter of King Kuntibhoja, generally called Kunti. She was a small, well-preserved woman, now nearing fifty, and bore herself with great dignity. Her face was pale and her eyes sad. Her smile, however, had the supreme quality of attracting affection, and, to her sons, grown into splendid manhood, she always spoke with the accents of an indulgent mother talking to small children-as if they were still her babes who had scarcely learnt to walk.

  Bhima laughed aloud. 'We are Kshatriyas,' said he, slapping his chest. 'Fighting is our primary duty.'

  'In defence of Dharma only, Bhima, and not for the love of it,' Kunti quietly corrected him.