Krishnavatara VII: The Book of Yudhishthira Page 8

  Bhima, trembling with rage, took a step towards Sishupal. Bhishma intervened. ‘Don’t, Bhima,’ said Bhishma, ‘we have offered agrapuja to the noble Vaasudeva. He is now the guardian of the Rajasuya. Leave it to him—the best among men—to deal with the situation as he thinks proper.’

  ‘Vaasudeva, the best of men! Ha! ha!’ had Sishupal exclaimed with a contemptuous laugh. ‘You are a dotard Bhishma, a bard singing the praises of your masters. If you must, you had better sing the praises of the noble Rajanyas present here—the respected King Drupad, Karna, the unrivalled archer, or Duryodhana, the most valiant of warriors.’

  ‘Sishupal, you are angry. Anger, as you know is the greatest enemy of man’, said Bhishma. ‘By offering agrapuja to the noble Vaasudeva, we sought no favour. I live on no man’s favour. And…. I will not deviate from the righteous path at your behest, however powerful you may be.’

  Sunith, who stood next to Sishupal, said: ‘You are an old sinner. You deserve to be killed as the noble Sishupal said.’

  ‘Young Rajanya, I would sooner die than live under your threats,’ said Bhishma, drawing himself to his full height. ‘I speak the truth. I act according to the truth. And that is: Vaasudeva is the greatest amongst us all; great in valour; great in wisdom; great in learning; great in dedication to dharma’.

  ‘I will deal with the cowherd when his turn comes,’ said Sishupal. ‘I will kill you first; then the Five Brothers who trapped us into accepting Krishna as the supreme authority amongst us’.

  Carried away by anger, Sishupal drew his sword. His friends with their hands on the hilts of their swords, grew defiant.

  The Five Brothers and Krishna and Bhima carried no weapons as they were taking part in the ceremonies.

  Unperturbed, Krishna moving Sahadeva aside, faced Sishupal. His tone was quiet as he spoke; ‘Noble king of Chedi, I know that you have no quarrel with the venerable Bhishma or the Five Brothers; it is with me. You are my cousin, yet you have pursued us—the Yadavas—with venom. When we had gone to Pragjyotish, you set fire to Dwaraka. When my father performed Aswamedha (the horse sacrifice), you forcibly carried away the sacred horse.’

  ‘Yes,’ Sishupal said laughing. ‘I did all that. What about it?’

  ‘I should have punished you for your misdeeds long ago. But I had promised your mother, the venerable Srutasravaa, that I would forgive you a hundred affronts, but no more. You have now crossed the limit.’

  The people standing there were taken aback to see how Krishna was transformed. The voice, so indulgent at first, was now stern. The face, surrounded by a halo, was now set in majesty. The elegant man was transformed into a God—dominating the affairs of men.

  ‘I will teach you a lesson today, cowherd,’ Sishupal said and flourished his sword. His friends also drew their swords, determined to kill Krishna.

  Bhima took a step forward to protect Krishna, but, by a commanding gesture, he waved him away.

  ‘Sishupal’,—the voice was now charged with irresistible authority, ‘today you have abused the hospitality of the Five Brothers. You have insulted the noble Bhishma, revered by all Aryas. You have converted the Hall of Sacrifice into a Hall of Wickedness.’

  Everybody’s eyes were pinned on Krishna, who continued: ‘Sishupal, once I had to rescue Rukmini, the noble Princess of Vidarbha from you. Today I propose to rescue dharma from you’.

  Sishupal forced a laugh. ‘Shameless cowherd, are you not ashamed to gloat over your running away with the Princess solemnly pledged to me?’ Sishupal took a step forward with his sword raised.

  Those who loved Krishna were terrified. He was unarmed.

  Bhima took the naked sword from Sahadeva.

  Suddenly there was a whizzing sound which arrested the attention of everyone. Every eye was directed towards a strange discus with a razor-sharp edge, flashing in the sunshine, whirling and flying towards them through mid-air.

  It hovered over the head of Krishna; he caught the formidable weapon by a sweeping gesture of his right hand.

  Before anyone could realize what was happening, Krishna sent it whirling at Sishupal.

  Sishupal opened his eyes wide in fright and dropped his sword, which clattered to the ground.

  The chakra came whirling, severed the head from Sishupal’s body and returned to Krishna’s hand.

  Sishupal’s head fell to the ground, the headless body tottered to a fall.

  11. THE PREDICTION

  The friends of Sishupal led by Dantavaktra and Sunith, dazed by the awesome power of Krishna, left Indraprastha.

  Krishna took charge of the situation as one of the nearest relatives of Sishupal and embraced his younger son stricken by grief.

  The body of Sishupal was cremated with due ceremony. The close relatives of the dead King withdrew from the Rajasuya during the prescribed days of mourning. Thereafter, the son of Sishupal, with the blessing of the Master, was crowned King of Chedi by Yudhishthira before the assembled Rajanyas.

  Yudhishthira’s generosity, sense of fairness, and kindliness of approach to everyone created a deep impression on all those who attended the Rajasuya.

  Though the Rajasuya resumed its course, the glamour of the sacrificial session was gone; unhappiness lay in the hearts of all.

  What saved the situation was the moral influence of the Master. Crowds continued to come to have his darshan; the ailing came and prayed for his healing touch; the children waited for him to serve the food and the Rajanyas wanted his blessing.

  Under his influence, the Srotriyas developed a new sense of mission by recapturing the high tradition of tapas which he followed scrupulously as well as a deeper faith in the WORD as divinity.

  The Master impressed upon them again and again that dharma would prevail only if they transposed it into their lives; that they would be respected only so long as they followed a life of tapas, rigorous self-discipline and invoked the sacred mantra of Gayatri.

  When the Rajasuya was concluded, the sacred fire was ceremonially extinguished.

  The Rajanyas, who had not left with Dantavaktra, saluted Yudhishthira, as a Chakravarti, who, in turn, presented the guests with valuable presents and asked his brothers to accompany them to the frontier.

  Vasudeva and Balarama, with the Yadava maharathis, departed for their homes. Krishna, Uddhava and Satyaki stayed behind for a few days.

  Grandfather Bhishma and other guests from Hastinapura also stayed behind to see the strange and miraculous Sabha which Maya, the Asura, had built for Yudhishthira.

  Duryodhana wore his best smile when he bade good-bye to Yudhishthira.

  Yudhishthira was happy in the thought that his Kaurava cousins would now be friendly.

  While on a visit to the Sabha in company with Bhima and Draupadi, Duryodhana was drenched by walking into a pool, the floor of which he took for even ground. He also hit a wall in which an illusion had been created of a doorway. Bhima and Draupadi laughed uproariously and Duryodhana was deeply mortified.

  Ghatotkacha’s departure for his homeland was a great event. He was always cheerful; his comments on men and things were gay. He had become a special favourite of the royal family. Even a section of the citizens of Indraprastha had come to like him.

  There were endless difficulties about the manner in which he would return to Rakshasa-land. Boatmen would not take a Rakshasa as a passenger and there were 12 of them—Ghatotkacha and his companions.

  ‘Why do I want a boat? We don’t travel by water, It is inauspicious’, said Ghatotkacha. He was firm. ‘We will go only through the forest, but I will kidnap “that uncle,”’ he said, pointing to Sahadeva. With a mischievous smile he added: ‘Then you must all come to take him back’. Ghatotkacha having spent some months in Sahadeva’s company during his digvijaya campaign in the South, had appropriated “that uncle” as a special property of his.

  Ultimately, it was decided that Sahadeva, with a few archers, should accompany Ghatotkacha and his companions till they reached the forest. Ghatotkacha would then be in
his territory.

  While taking leave of his father, his eyes twinkled merrily. Softly moving his hand over his father’s back as if he was a baby, a liberty which no other member of the family expect Mother Kunti would have dared to take, he said: ‘Father, I like you very much. I wish you were coming back with me. Mother thought that now you would be delighted to come back’.

  ‘My boy, how can I come?’, asked Bhima. ‘There are so many people here to be looked after.’

  ‘I know,’ admitted Ghatotkacha. ‘You would like to come with me, but these uncles can’t do without you, so you have to live with them. But I am going to complain to mother that you didn’t allow me to kill your enemies.’

  Bhima laughed, playfully patting his back. He liked his son. ‘Tell your mother that you obeyed me and she will be happy.’

  Ghatotkacha’s mind was fixed on the help which he could have rendered his father in killing his enemies. He said: ‘What a waste of time it was and what a noise you made when that enemy of yours was going to kill you. If you had let me do it, I would have done it neatly—jumped upon him, thrown him to the ground, strangled him and torn his heart out with my nails like this.’ He made an expressive gesture.

  When Bhima translated his remarks, the people standing there laughed; the youngsters danced for joy.

  ‘If you had let me do it, mother would have been very happy,’ said Ghatotkacha.

  When parting, the young Rakshasa placed Bhima’s foot on his head. He turned to go and then turned to Bhima and pulled him away a few steps.

  ‘Father,’ he whispered, ‘remember this; next time when you want to kill your enemies, call me’.

  ‘I will do so,’ said Bhima. The son responded with a smile.

  The next day, Yudhishthira felt as if rudely awakened from a dream world to face the world as it was—a world without heroes and sages, which revolved round the personal ambitions of battle-hungry Rajanyas.

  Suddenly the harsh truth came to him that he had been trapped in the kshaatra-tej tradition. He had not wanted the Rajasuya, but he was forced to perform it because of the imponderable influence of the kshaatra tradition and the ambition of acquiring a Chakravarti in the family.

  Even Krishna, wise and valorous and so foreseeing, made no secret of his view—wherever adharma becomes rampant, it must be destroyed.

  For a long time, Yudhishthira could not sleep that night. Everything was done in his name, often with his approval. How could he disown responsibility?

  Every ceremony ended by an invocation to shanti, peace. The refrain invoking shanti, shanti, shanti, —peace, peace, peace—was chanted again and again, and yet in order that peace might prevail, Jarasandha and Sishupal had to be killed. The Rajasuya performed to bring peace and harmony had ended only in intensified hatred between the two groups of Rajanyas now pledged to destroy one another.

  When he was half-asleep, he felt as if he was lying wounded on a battlefield expecting someone to come and run his sword through him. At the same time, he heard the distant refrain of the invocation to peace, shanti, shanti, shanti, peace, peace, peace.

  Had he nothing better to do, nothing more useful, nothing more to achieve than prepare for butchery on a mass scale? The question arose insistently in his mind.

  * * *

  The Eldest washed the feet of the Master when he came to Yudhishthira to bid good-bye. As he did so, tears were in his eyes. He was very unhappy.

  ‘May I ask you, Master, to help me by telling me what you see in the future? You know the past, the present and the future.’

  ‘By all means unburden yourself, my son,’ said the Master affectionately.

  ‘Sishupal’s death, I feel, was ominous’, said Yudhishthira. ‘Will there be a war in the future?’

  The Master appeared to be peering into the future.

  ‘My son,’ he said in a low voice, ‘Sishupal’s death was not the end, but the beginning of a convulsion involving the massacre of kshatriyas. The ghosts of Kamsa, Jarasandha and Sishupal will stalk the earth and will continue to do so till their blood lust is satisfied.’

  ‘How can I avoid this disaster, Master? I am ready to do anything to avoid it,’ said Yudhishthira.

  The Master’s eyes were fixed on the future. Then he said in a low voice: ‘Yudhishthira, my son, you will become the centre of this convulsion’.

  ‘Oh, great God!’ Yudhishthira exclaimed, and asked in a voice choked with tears: ‘Is there no way to escape this tragedy, Master?’

  ‘You can’t.’ The Master’s voice was sad but firm.

  ‘Even if I surrender myself absolutely, woo death or take sanyastha and give up the world?’ asked Yudhishthira. The Master was silent.

  Yudhishthira asked: ‘How long will the convulsion last?’

  The Master closed his eyes, opened them again and said: ‘For thirteen years’.

  Yudhishthira shuddered. He repeated the question: ‘Can you not show the way to escape this calamity?’

  The master shook his head. ‘I am afraid you can’t. At the appropriate time, the Lord Shiva, the Great Destroyer, will advise you’.

  The Master rose. Yudhishthira fell at his feet, smothering the cry of anguish which rose in his throat.

  * * *

  Two days later when the morning star rose, the silence of the dawn was shattered by the sound of fast-rushing chariots coming to a halt near the royal mansion. He heard Nakula and Sahadeva talking to the people who had arrived.

  Nakula ran up to Yudhishthira. ‘Eldest, the noble Vasudeva, when on his way back to Dwaraka, has been captured by Shalva, perhaps put to death. The chariot—warriors report that he has also invaded Saurashtra, and set fire to several villages.’

  ‘Let us go to Vaasudeva,’ Yudhishthira said.

  ‘Sahadeva has already gone to inform him,’ said Nakula.

  As he reached the mansion where Krishna was staying, he heard him ordering his charioteer, Daruka, to get ready.

  Yudhishthira almost ran to Krishna. ‘What is the matter, brother?’, he asked.

  ‘My venerable father has been taken captive by Shalva, who has been burning villages in Saurashtra. I must leave immediately.’

  The other Brothers who had come there too offered to accompany Krishna.

  Krishna said: ‘No, please don’t try to help me. I will deal with the situation in my own way.’

  Conches were blown to announce that the chariots were ready.

  When parting, Yudhishthira embraced Krishna with tears in his eyes. ‘Brother, if I am a Chakravarti today, it is solely due to you. I don’t know how to thank you.’

  ‘Don’t thank me. You take your own way to strengthen Indraprastha. But remember,’ Krishna lowered his voice and added: ‘Duryodhana will never forgive you for being so prosperous. Don’t be trapped by him.’

  Krishna took the reins of the chariot himself; he was in a hurry and the horses obeyed the master. The rest of the Yadava maharathis followed him in their chariots, which disappeared in clouds of dust.

  12. UNCLE VIDURA BRINGS A MESSAGE

  Yudhishthira felt depressed. He felt as if the shadow of the coming war was over the Kurus.

  ‘Oh, Gods,’ he confessed to himself. ‘How can I arrive at peace? The sages pray for peace, but there is no peace. In reality, as Bhima says, peace is only a pause between one war and another.’

  Before his mind rose one picture after another; of the ruthless destroyer, Kartaveerya, reducing Aryavarta to a charnel house; of Parasurama, the Mighty, destroying the invaders in a series of brilliant battles in search of peace; of his own ancestor, Shantanu, winning the final round of battles, shedding rivers of blood to acquire imperial status; of Jarasandha who indulged in murderous wars against the Rajanyas in order to establish his hegemony and reduced Mathura to ashes, and took a large number of Rajanyas captive in order to offer them to the Fire God.

  Everyone had thought that once Jarasandha was killed, there would be peace. However, Sishupal, filled with hatred, had wanted another war and h
ad to be killed.

  Now Shalva, a friend to Jarasandha, had invaded Saurashtra and kidnapped the noble Vasudeva. The Yadavas led by Krishna were sure to inflict a crushing defeat on Shalva; they could not live in peace unless Shalva was destroyed—and they were right.

  He heaved a deep sigh. ‘My brothers believe that they will not be able to attain peace till Duryodhana is vanquished in war. The Master has predicted a great war, in which I am going to be the central figure.’

  ‘Poor Duryodhana’. Yudhishthira again and again said to himself. ‘By an accident, he was born after I was—that too to a blind father. He was thus deprived of his heritage through no fault of his own. Now he wants to deprive us of our heritage which he thinks belongs to him. Bhima, the bravest of the brave, thinks that if we want peace, we must be prepared for war.

  Yudhishthira thought and thought, but every thought ended in self-commiseration.

  In bitterness, he confessed to himself again and again. ‘I haven’t the strength to stand for peace or for war. I am, naturally, as the Master says, going to be the pivot round which the wars will be fought. What is the way out of it?’

  ‘How can I quiet the volcano of hate which rages in Duryodhana’s heart? How can I induce him to think in terms of peace, so long as he believes that the heritage is denied to him?’

  ‘My brothers give me respect and the affection due to a father. They give me unstinted loyalty. However, they will never agree to give up Indraprastha’.

  He thought and thought…. ‘My brothers believe that Duryodhana wants to deny them their legitimate heritage—and rightly too…. Indraprastha is not a heritage. It is what we have created by our own exertions. How can I ask them to give it up?’

  ‘If I suggested to my brothers that they should give up Indraprastha, even Mother Kunti and Draupadi would disown me. They would not part with Indraprastha to the Kauravas.’

  ‘How can I make them see the stark reality of the coming war? The WORD announces that peace is everything, but where is it?’

  ‘This habit of war in the hearts of men—it invests horses, chariots, the bow and the arrow, the battle-axe and the mace –necessary to win a war—with divine attributes. How can we abandon its practice?’