Vidura started to cry thinking of his weak and blind brother. Then he blessed his nephews and Draupadi and returned to the palace.
Rishi Maitreya accompanied Vidura. When the Kauravas came to greet him, the sage said, ‘Beware, sons of the blind king. Beware the power of the sons of Pandu. You have driven them away from civilization but even in the forest they earn glory for themselves, glory that the Kauravas can only aspire for.’
Maitreya proceeded to tell Dhritarashtra and his hundred sons how when the Pandavas entered the Kamyaka woods, their path was blocked by a Rakshasa called Kirmira. Instead of being afraid, despite the burden of calamities on their shoulders, the Pandavas faced him unafraid. Bhima struck him with a mace and pinned him to the ground as a cowherd pins down an errant calf. He then snapped Kirmira’s neck. News of Kirmira’s death spread through the forest and the Rishis, long troubled by Kirmira, rushed to meet the Pandavas, to thank them, and to shower them with blessings.
‘No one can hide the radiance of the sun. No one can hide the glory of the Pandavas. Let them live their days in exile in peace,’ said Maitreya.
On hearing this, Duryodhana decided to abort his hunting expedition. He justified his decision by saying, ‘Vidura must have told them of our plans. The element of surprise is lost. We must do this later when they are not on their guard.’
After the sage Maitreya left, Karna crept up towards Duryodhana and said, ‘Now that you are the master of all that the Pandavas once possessed, why not travel across your vast kingdom and count all the cows you have? And on the way, we can pass the woods where the Pandavas are now residing to see how they are faring. I know you have promised not to hunt them down, but surely you are allowed to feel sorry for them.’
‘Are you suggesting we go to the forest and gloat?’ asked Duryodhana. Karna grinned. So did Dusshasana and Shakuni. Duryodhana laughed. What joy it would be to laugh at Draupadi, who once laughed at him. What joy it would be to see Bhima live as a beggar. It did not take long to convince Dhritarashtra.
So a great procession was organized of horses and elephants and palanquins with wives, attendants, musicians, dancers, cooks and slaves, to go around Hastinapuri and Indra-prastha and count the cows that now belonged to the Kuru clan. This was the Ghoshayatra.
Since the unspoken intention was to make fun of the Pandavas, the great Kaurava procession stopped not far from the forest where the Pandavas had taken refuge, and made a lot of noise as the tents were set up, food was cooked and musicians got ready to entertain the revellers.
Bhima, who was sent to investigate the sudden commotion in the forest, saw all this and went to Yudhishtira fuming, ‘They have camped upwind of us and are cooking in large pots so that I can smell all my favourite dishes. This is a cruel exercise to mock us in our misfortune, brother,’ he said.
‘I think they plan to go on a hunt. And we are the prey!’ said Arjuna sombrely as he watched Karna string his bow.
‘Hold your thoughts and be still,’ said Yudhishtira. ‘They can tempt us but we don’t have to be tempted. We have fallen prey to their traps before. We shall not do so again.’
Suddenly, a cry arose from the Kaurava camp. All the sounds of chattering and dancing stopped. The air was filled with the sound of hundreds of arrows descending from the sky. Nakula and Sahadeva were sent as scouts to find out what was happening.
‘The Gandharvas have attacked the Kauravas and taken them hostage,’ they said on their return. ‘The very same Gandharvas we encountered after the palace fire at Varanavata. They have bound and gagged all the Kauravas as well as Karna and Shakuni and all their servants. I think they plan to kill them all.’
‘We must rescue them,’ said Yudhishtira.
Draupadi and Bhima and Arjuna turned around and looked at Yudhishtira in disbelief. ‘Why? Leave them to their fate.’
‘Dharma is all about helping the helpless. They are helpless now. We must help them. Otherwise, we are no different from them,’ said Yudhishtira.
With great reluctance, Bhima picked up his mace and Arjuna his bow and followed Yudhishtira’s instructions. They went to the Kaurava camp and challenged the Gandharvas. After a little skirmish, the Gandharvas ran away allowing the Pandavas to set the Kauravas free.
The Kauravas returned to Hastina-puri shamed by the nobility of the Pandavas. Karna felt especially humiliated because he saw Arjuna defeat the very same Gandharvas who had defeated him. Duryodhana decided that he would leave the Pandavas alone in the forest. ‘We will find them in the thirteenth year of their exile and force them once again to return to the forest.’
In the forest meanwhile, the Gandharvas hugged the Pandavas with great affection and revealed that they were sent to teach the Kauravas a lesson by Indra, king of the Devas.
For rescuing his life, Duryodhana is indebted to the Pandavas. Krishna advises Duryodhana to repay this debt by giving him five golden arrows that are in Bhishma’s possession. Duryodhana steals these golden arrows and gives them to Krishna, not realizing these arrows had the power to kill the five Pandavas. This is a folklore to explain how Krishna protected the Pandavas from the mighty Bhishma.
The Theyyam dancers of Kerala tell the story of black magic used by the Kauravas to destroy the Pandavas while they are in the forest. Each of their attempts is foiled either because of the grace of Krishna or the power of Draupadi.
There is a Kathakali dance drama from Kerala that informs us that Kirmira had a sister called Simhika who, on learning of Kirmira’s death at the hands of Bhima, decided to kill Draupadi. Taking the form of a maiden, she befriended the wife of the Pandavas in the forest and offered to take her to a secret Durga temple. Simhika planned to offer Draupadi as a sacrifice to Durga, but Draupadi recognized her in time and called out to her husbands who cut the nose of Simhika and drove her away.
Some say that Lakshmi, the goddess of fortune, sat on Duryodhana’s shoulder all the time. That is why he was always surrounded by wealth. When Lakshmi made her way into the lives of the Pandavas in the form of Draupadi, they gambled her away.
The ceremonial counting of cows suggests that the society described in the Mahabharata depended on livestock for its sustenance. The cities were mainly established to protect cows and pasture lands. Perhaps the Vedic city was like the Kraal of the South African Zulu tribes where houses were built around cattle sheds. At dawn, the cows were let out and at dusk they returned, attended to by cowherds and protected by warriors. The cattle raid was the chief cause of war. In times of peace, men gambled over cows and bulls.
While the Pandavas were in the forest, Karna encouraged Duryodhana to conduct an Ashwamedha yagna and get all the kings of the earth under his control so that should ever a war break out against the Pandavas, everyone would side with the Kauravas.
The Hindi phrase ‘chandal chaukdi’, or menacing foursome, comes from the villainous quartet of the Mahabharata: Duryodhana, Dusshasana, Shakuni and Karna.
53
Jayadhrata
A few days later, while the Pandavas were away in the forest, Draupadi found to her surprise Jayadhrata at the mouth of the cave which now served as her home. He was the king of Sindhu and married to Dusshala, the only sister of the Kauravas.
Draupadi offered him a seat and served him water and some fruits, and wondered what brought him to the forest. Perhaps he came to express his sympathy and solidarity. Perhaps he wanted to clarify he did not appreciate the actions of the Kauravas, or perhaps he came here just to gloat? ‘My husbands will be back soon,’ she said.
‘I hope not,’ he said, a lusty glint in his eyes, ‘I came to see you.’ Draupadi suddenly felt uncomfortable. Jayadhrata placed before her a box. In it were fine fabrics, exquisite jewels and cosmetics. ‘For you,’ he said. ‘And there is more, if you come with me to Sindhu.’
Draupadi was shocked and disgusted by the audacity of the man. ‘I am the queen of Indra-prastha and the wife of the Pandavas. And you speak to me like this? How dare you?’
Jayadhrata lau
ghed, ‘You have no kingdom and hence are queen of nothing. You are a beggar. Nothing but a whore of five brothers, disrobed in public by the Kauravas. I offer you a better life, as a concubine in my palace.’ So saying, the king of Sindhu grabbed Draupadi by her hand and dragged her towards his chariot.
‘My husbands will kill you,’ screamed Draupadi. Jayadhrata just picked her up, bundled her into his chariot and sped away.
The Rishis nearby who saw this ran to Bhima and Arjuna and told them what had happened. The two brothers immediately followed the trail left by the chariot. They caught up with the abductor of their wife in no time. With his arrows, Arjuna broke the chariot wheels. Bhima then pounced on Jayadhrata and hit him furiously, injuring him seriously.
Jayadhrata would surely have been killed had Yudhishtira not arrived on the scene. ‘No, don’t kill him. He is the husband of the only sister we have. Let her not suffer widowhood for his misdemeanours.’
The Pandavas and Draupadi realized Yudhishtira was right. And though they were furious, and yearned for revenge, they forgave Jayadhrata and let him go.
As Jayadhrata was leaving, Bhima caught hold of him and pulled out his hair, all except five tufts, to remind him that he was spared by the five Pandavas.
The dark unspoken aspects of family life were not unknown to Vyasa. Even though Draupadi is abused by Jayadhrata, she is forced to forgive him as he is the husband of her sister-in-law, Dusshala.
Vyasa keeps asking what makes a woman a wife. It emerges that it is civilized society with its laws of marital fidelity that makes a woman a wife. But in the forest, there are no rules. Can a woman still be a wife? It is evident through the story of Jayadhrata that neither society nor forest can make a woman a wife; it is only the desire and the discipline of man that can do so.
Draupadi’s effect on men is a recurring theme in the Mahabharata. Besides Jayadhrata, there are other men who lust after her. Later in the epic, she has to fend off the unwarranted attention of Kichaka, brother-in-law of Virata, king of Matsya.
54
The story of Ram
Tired of being troubled by the Kauravas and their relatives, the Pandavas decided to go deeper into the forest. They withdrew from the Kamyaka woods into the dense forests known as Dwaita-vana. They made their home in caves but decided not to stay in one place too long.
As the days passed, there was nothing to do but talk. Bhima kept fretting and fuming. The idea of spending thirteen years doing nothing did not appeal to him. ‘I still think we must fight and claim what is rightfully ours.’ Draupadi moaned her fate and cursed her husbands. But all through, Yudhishtira kept his cool. He urged patience and serenity.
‘Are you not angry? Are you not humiliated? Are you not irritated? With the Kauravas, with fate, with God?’ asked Bhima.
‘No, why blame external factors when the root cause is our passion,’ said Yudhishtira. ‘Henceforth, let us not be swayed by passion. Let us be governed by what is right. Let us be governed by dharma.’
Despite his logic, Yudhishtira could sense the fury and frustration brewing inside his brothers and his wife. All this filled him with great shame and guilt.
One day, feeling sorry for being the cause of his family’s downfall, he wailed, ‘Surely there has never been a man who has suffered as much as me.’
Rishi Markandeya, who heard Yudhishtira say this, responded, ‘No. That is not true. There was one called Ram, who suffered much more. You are exiled for thirteen years, he was exiled for fourteen. While you brought this misery upon yourself, he suffered because dharma states a good son must obey his father.’ Glancing towards Draupadi and Bhima, he said, ‘And while your brothers endure this exile because they have little choice, Ram’s brother, Lakshman, suffered voluntarily out of love and affection for him.’
Rishi Markandeya then proceeded to tell Yudhishtira the Ramopakhyan, the story of Ram, prince of Ayodhya.
Dasharatha, king of Ayodhya, had three wives and four sons. Ram was the eldest. On the eve of Ram’s coronation, Dasharatha’s second queen, Kaikeyi, reminded Dasharatha of a boon he had offered her long time ago, when she had saved his life in battle. ‘Let Ram live as a hermit in the forest for fourteen years and let my son, Bharata, be made king of Ayodhya instead.’
Since he had given his word, Dasharatha had no choice but to ask Ram to leave Ayodhya and give the crown to Bharata. Ram, the dutiful son, obeyed without protest; he shed his royal robes and left for the forest dressed in clothes of bark, armed with his bow. His wife, Sita, and his younger brother, Lakshman, followed him because they were committed to sharing his burden of misfortunes.
In Ayodhya, meanwhile, Bharata refused to be king of a kingdom obtained through deceit. He served as regent and waited for Ram to return and reclaim his kingdom.
In the forest, Ram suffered great hardships along with his wife and his brother for thirteen long years. They travelled through untamed land battling demons, taking shelter in caves, occasionally meeting sages and hearing tales of encouragement and wisdom.
In the final year of exile, a Rakshasa woman called Surpanakha was so smitten by the beauty of Ram and Lakshman that she solicited them repeatedly. When they refused to respond, she assumed it was because they had the company of Sita. So she tried to kill Sita. Ram and Lakshman stopped her in time. To teach her a lesson she would never forget, Lakshman then cut off her nose and breasts and drove her away.
A mutilated Surpanakha ran to her brother, Ravana, king of the Rakshasas, and demanded that he avenge her humiliation. Accordingly, Ravana abducted Sita while the two brothers were away hunting a golden deer. He took her to his island-kingdom of Lanka intending to make her queen by force.
A heartbroken Ram raised an army in the forest comprising monkeys, bears and vultures. He built a bridge across the sea and launched an attack on Lanka. After a war that lasted for days, Ram was finally able to kill Ravana and liberate Sita.
Ram then returned to Ayodhya along with Lakshman where he was crowned king by Bharata; Sita sat by his side as queen.
Ram’s story is part of the Mahabharata but the poet Valmiki made it an epic in its own right. Known as the Ramayana, the story of Ram speaks of a model king and his model reign. The Mahabharata, by contrast, is more about imperfect kings and their imperfect reigns. In the Ramayana, Vishnu upholds rules as Ram, while in the Mahabharata, Vishnu changes rules as Krishna. In the Ramayana, God is king, while in the Mahabharata, God is kingmaker.
Through the story of Ram, Vyasa is trying to explain that while we believe our problems are the greatest and our misfortunes the worst, there is always someone out there who has suffered more. And just as they survived and triumphed over their suffering, we must too.
Together, the Ramayana and the Mahabharata are known as Itihasa; they need to be distinguished from the Veda and the Purana. Itihasa is about the struggle of man to uphold dharma in his pursuit of perfection and divinity. The Veda, by contrast, lists rather abstractly the principles governing life while the Puranas embody these principles in various divine beings and tell stories of how God cyclically creates and destroys the world.
55
Shiva humbles Arjuna
Arjuna knew in his heart that there would be a fight thirteen years later. Just as Ram had fought Ravana, the Pandavas would have to fight the Kauravas. He felt there was more merit in preparing for that fight than spending time in the forest cursing fate like Draupadi or being angry like Bhima.
‘Let me invoke Shiva, the God of destruction, and obtain weapons such as the Pashupat, which contains the strength of all birds and beasts, which I can use against the Kauravas,’ he said. He took leave of his brothers and travelled north towards the snow-clad mountains whose peaks reached up to the sky.
At the base of the mountains was a dense forest of tall pine trees. In a clearing of the forest, Arjuna fixed into the soft earth a smooth oval stone collected from a river bed. ‘I shall look upon this formless stone as a linga, the symbol of Shiva, God without form,’ he said. He
offered it flowers and then sat before it withholding his senses and his breath, his mind focused on Shiva.
Days passed. Those who saw the still and immobile Arjuna were impressed by his concentration.
Suddenly, a wild boar rushed towards Arjuna and interrupted his meditation. Arjuna opened his eyes, picked up his bow, shot one arrow that hit the boar and killed him instantly.
As Arjuna approached the boar, he noticed that he had been hit by another arrow. He looked up and found a Kirat or hunter standing next to the dead animal. Beside him was his beautiful wife. ‘My husband killed the boar,’ she said, beaming with pride.
‘No, I killed the boar,’ said Arjuna.
‘No, my husband did,’ insisted the hunter’s wife.
‘My wife is right. It was my arrow that killed the boar. You shot a dead boar,’ said the hunter.
‘Do you know who you are talking to?’ asked Arjuna, unused to being dismissed in this fashion.
‘A boy who always wants to win,’ said the hunter, making a face to mock Arjuna.
An incensed Arjuna said, ‘I am Arjuna, student of Drona, and the greatest archer in the world.’
The hunter smiled, ‘Greatest? By whose measuring scale?’
His wife said, ‘This is the forest. Your city rules don’t apply here, boy. You may be a prince somewhere else. But here you are a common dog who must make way for the lion.’
Arjuna was furious. He would not allow this uncouth tribal couple to humiliate him so. ‘Let us fight then. He who wins is surely the better warrior and the true hunter of the boar,’ he said. The hunter accepted the challenge with a mocking look in his eyes, further annoying Arjuna.