“Even unasked, one should speak only the truth, O Great King. Do not pursue a line of action which is clearly unjust; happiness lies only in doing the right action. He whom the gods wish to destroy will first be deprived of his good sense, and then he will stoop to perform the worst act. Endowed with qualities that make him fit to rule the three worlds, Yudhistira is waiting for your word and will be obedient to you if you are fair and just. Let him rule the world; banish your viper-like sons. Yudhistira is your rightful heir. Give him his kingdom and also yours without any delay, and you will be happy. Disown Duryodhana and you will be happy.”
Dhritarashtra, somehow, did not mind this advice, but changed the topic and went on to examine some subtle philosophical points. “Sacrifice, study, charity, truth, forgiveness, mercy, and contentment constitute the eight different paths of righteousness, they say, but which one is most important?”
After answering his enquiry and occasionally throwing in an ancient tale to illustrate his point, Vidura would come back to the same refrain, asking, “If you rely on Duryodhana, Sakuni, and Dussasana to rule your kingdom, how can you hope for happiness or peace of mind?”
Dhritarashtra would dodge the issue, replying, “Man is not a disposer of his destiny. The Creator has made man a slave to fate and so what is… ?”
Whatever the question, Vidura would have a ready answer, and at some point sandwich it with advice to cast away Duryodhana.
Dhritarashtra got quite used to this kind of response, but slurred over it. “How are men to be classified?” he would ask, and Vidura would say, “Manu the Lawgiver has classified seventeen kinds of foolish men, such as those who strike the air with their fist or attempt to bend the rainbow. O King, the Pandavas will be your real saviours.”
“The gods, men of equanimity, and the learned, prefer ‘high families’… I ask you, Vidura, what are those ‘high families’ they speak of?”
Vidura would immediately start reciting, “Asceticism, self-restraint, knowledge of the Vedas, etc., etc.; those families in which these seven virtues exist are regarded as high,” and would return to this theme… “On that fateful day of gambling, did I not tell you, but Your Majesty spurned my words. O King, cherish the sons of Pandu who have suffered untold privations in exile.”
And Dhritarashtra would ask, his appetite for spiritual enquiry seeming insatiable, “What are the true marks of a Yogi?” or “When does desire cease to operate?” For all questions Vidura found detailed answers. The major part of the night was thus spent in philosophical enquiries.
Finally Dhritarashtra admitted, “I agree with everything you say. My heart is inclined towards the Pandavas exactly as you desire, but as soon as I am near Duryodhana, it goes the other way. I am helpless, I do not know what to do. I cannot escape fate, which will finally drag me where it will. My own efforts will be futile, I know. If there is still any subject untouched by you, please continue. I am ready to listen. Your talk calms my mind.”
Vidura felt quite exhausted by this time, but did not want the King to lapse into apathy and so said, “I will invoke that ancient rishi Sanat-suja, who leads a life of celibacy in the woods. He will expound to you on many other themes.” He summoned by thought that ancient rishi, and after courtesies Vidura said to him, “O holy one, there are doubts in the King’s mind which are beyond my competence to answer. Will you please discourse to him so that he may overcome his sorrows?”
And then Dhritarashtra asked, “O holy one, I hear that you are of the opinion that there is no death. Gods and asuras alike practise austerity in order to avoid death, which means that they believe in death. Of these which is the right view?”
Sanat-suja said, “The soul that is constantly being affected by the pursuit of objects and experiences becomes clouded.” All this abstraction seemed to act as a tonic on the King. He questioned the rishi on the nature of Brahman, the Ultimate Godhood, how to attain it, and so on and so forth. The entire night was spent thus, and when morning came, Dhritarashtra was ready to take his seat at his court.
When everyone was seated, a messenger entered who announced, “There comes Sanjaya in the chariot dispatched to meet the Pandavas. Our envoy has returned swiftly, his vehicle drawn by well-trained Sindhu horses.” Sanjaya was now officially back from his mission. There were formalities to be observed in his speech: “Know you, Kauravas, I am just returning from the Pandavas. The sons of Pandu want me to present their greetings before I utter any other word.”
Dhritarashtra asked formally, “What message have you brought from Dhananjaya and his brothers?”
Sanjaya gave a candid account of his visit. Amidst much else, he said, “When the eldest son of Pandu chooses to draw the bowstring, his arrow will fly charged with the wrath accumulated over the years, and the sons of Dhritarashtra will then repent the war.”
Bhishma agreed with Sanjaya’s words, and described the divinity of both Krishna and Arjuna, who were twin souls of a divinity in a previous life. He described their background and origin, and how together they dwelt in different planes and were born and reborn together when wars became necessary, and how they were invincible. He warned Duryodhana, “You turn a deaf ear to every word of advice except that of Karna, the low-born son of a charioteer; Sakuni, the vile serpent; and your mean and sinful brother, Dussasana.”
Dhritarashtra asked, “Give us an estimate of the military strength of the Pandavas and a list of those who will be their allies.”
Sanjaya could not immediately answer the question; he remained in deep thought for a long time, began a sentence, paused, and fainted. Vidura cried, “O King, Sanjaya has fallen unconscious!”
“Why?” said Dhritarashtra. “What could be the reason? Is he overwhelmed by the might of the Pandava forces he has witnessed?”
When Sanjaya was revived, he described in exact terms the Pandavas’ strength. There was no ambiguity.
Dhritarashtra was so upset on hearing it that he bewailed his fate. “I am tied to the wheel of time, I cannot fly away from it. Oh, cursed time! Tell me, Sanjaya, where shall I go? What shall I do? The Kauravas, the fools, seek destruction and will doubtless be destroyed; their time is up. How can I bear the wailing of women when the hundred sons of mine are killed? Oh, when will death come to me? As a fire blazing in summer wind consumes dry grass, so shall I be destroyed with all my family when Bhima lifts his mace and Arjuna wields his Gandiva. What fool will voluntarily jump into a blazing fire, like a moth? I do not feel it would be proper to fight. You Kauravas, think it over. Let us avoid this war. I have no doubt that Yudhistira will be reasonable.”
Duryodhana tried to calm his father: “You should not grieve for us in this manner, as if a catastrophe had overtaken us. Do not fear, we are confident. Some days ago, I consulted Drona, Bhishma, Aswathama, and our master Kripa as to what would happen to us if war came, with Krishna on the Pandavas’ side, and the whole world talking ill of us through the rumours they have spread. And do you know what the masters said? ‘If there is a war, we will be with you, don’t fear. When we take the field no one can defeat us,’ they assured me with one voice. You must know that these giants among men will enter the sea or fire for my sake, and they laugh at your lamentations. Bhima will never be able to bear the blows of my mace. Arjuna is no match—even with Krishna on his side—to any three of us; do not overrate him because of some other experience when he defeated us at an unprepared moment. We have eleven akshaunis of troops, they have only seven.… Has not Brihaspati said, ‘An army which is less by a third may easily be confronted’?… Yudhistira knows our strength; that is why he has come down from a whole kingdom to half and is now cringing for just five villages. Why will a strong man ask for less? Both the Pandavas and ourselves are of the same kind, yet why should you think that they alone will win? I promise you that the Pandavas will be seized by my friends as deer in a hunter’s net, and then I will show you a spectacle grander than the one you witnessed years ago in the gambling hall.”
“My son talks lik
e a madcap or one in a delirium. Now I feel that we Kauravas are already dead. Oh, Sanjaya, tell me exactly who are the allies that are kindling the fire in Yudhistira? How is Yudhistira?” In his panic the old man could not even phrase his questions, could not even be clear as to what he wished to ask. He moaned, “Alas, that I should have a son mad enough to want to fight Yudhistira, Arjuna, and Bhima! Duryodhana, give back to them their legitimate share. Half a world is enough kingdom for you. Bhishma, Drona, Aswathama, and Salya, whose support has been promised you, do not approve of what you are doing. I know that by yourself you would not want this war. You are being egged on by those evil-minded companions of yours: Karna, Sakuni, and Dussasana.”
“If you think that the elders are unwilling fighters for my cause, I will drop them,” said Duryodhana. “I will challenge the Pandavas to a battle relying only on Karna and Dussasana; I will not want anyone else. Either I will slay the Pandavas and rule the earth, or they will slaughter me and rule the earth. It will have to be one or the other. I will sacrifice everything, but I will not live side by side with the Pandavas. And, my beloved father, please understand that I will not yield to them even as much territory as will be covered by the point of a needle. Let us end this useless discussion, going round and round the same subject. It is time to act.”
Karna announced, “I have the Brahma Astra among my weapons, obtained from Parasurama, who imparted it to me with certain reservations. I can employ this weapon and eradicate the Pandavas single-handed.”
“Your mind is clouded with conceit, Karna,” said Bhishma. “You and your weapons will be squashed when Krishna decides to strike.”
Karna was incensed by the remark and said, “All right, I will not fight… at least until you fight and die. I will not touch my arms as long as you are alive.” He dramatically threw down his bow. “My grandfather, Bhishma! You will hereafter see me only at the court, not in the battlefield. When you and all the rest have been silenced and laid away, I will pick up my arms again and demonstrate what I can do….” With these words, he walked out of the assembly in a rage.
Bhishma turned to Duryodhana and said, “There goes your ally, who has promised you so much support. Without his bow, how will he help you? He has forgotten how he barely escaped with his skin at Virata,” he said with a laugh, and left the hall.
When they were alone, Dhritarashtra asked Sanjaya again, “Tell me truly now, Sanjaya, your honest appraisal of the strength and weakness of both sides. Does Duryodhana have as good a chance as he thinks? It must be, otherwise he wouldn’t be so confident of victory. What do you think?”
Sanjaya said, “Master, forgive me; I will not say anything to you in secret. Please let your Queen, Gandhari, and the sage, Vyasa, be present when I speak to you again. They will be able to remove any ill will that my words may cause in you.”
Vyasa could be summoned by a thought. When he arrived, Gandhari was called, and Sanjaya repeated over again all that he had said, assessing the strength of both sides as well as he could estimate. Gandhari vehemently denounced the idea of war, as well as her son and his allies. Vyasa, who could read the future, assured Dhritarashtra that their end was coming.
13 Action
YUDHISTIRA had a qualm of conscience. Sitting with his brothers and Krishna, he suddenly asked, “Is it worth all this conflict?” He explained his ideas again. “We should avoid a war at all costs, especially when we are certain of victory. They are our kinsmen, after all. We must make yet one more attempt to find a way which would help both the Kauravas and ourselves to live in peace. By exterminating the Kauravas, we shall regain our territories, but will that bring us lasting happiness? O Krishna, we have numerous kinsmen and elders on their side; how can we slaughter them? You will say that it is the duty of a kshatriya. Alas, I curse being born in this caste. The waves of violence never cease. Victory creates animosity; hostilities lie dormant, but continue. Even if there is one little baby left in the other camp, it will retain a small smouldering ember of hate, which could kindle later conflagration. To prevent this, it is considered necessary to exterminate the opposite camp totally. My whole being shudders at the thought. Enmity is never quenched by enmity. Confidence in one’s prowess is like an incurable disease that eats away one’s heart. We are ready to drench the earth in blood to establish our claims and might. It is not unlike the encounter of two hostile dogs, as the learned have observed. At first two dogs meet, tails are wagged, then comes a growling and barking, snarling and barking in answer, and then the circling around each other, the baring of fangs, and repeated growling and snarling. Then they fight and bite and then the stronger dog kills the other and tears his flesh and eats it. The same pattern is observed in human beings, too. We must make one more attempt to bring the Kauravas to their senses. Oh, Krishna, what shall I do? Advise me, guide me, please.”
Krishna replied, “For your sake I will visit the Kauravas at their court. If I can obtain peace without compromising your interest, I will do so.”
At this juncture, Yudhistira had another misgiving. “All the supporters of Duryodhana, vicious men, will be assembled there. I feel nervous to let you go into their midst. They may harm you….”
Krishna, who was, after all, a god and confident of himself, said, “Do not worry about me. If we make this one last effort to avoid war, we shall escape all blame. If they try to injure me, I can take care of myself. Do not worry about me. I am going there only to remove any doubt others may have about the complete vileness of Duryodhana, that is all. I do not hope in any manner to convert him. I am going only for your sake. Get ready, work out the details, gather everything that you may need for a war.”
“Krishna, do not threaten them,” said Bhima. “Duryodhana is hostile and arrogant, but he should not be roughly addressed. Please be mild with him. All of us, O Krishna, would rather suffer in obscurity than see the Kuru dynasty destroyed.”
Hearing these words from Bhima, Krishna laughed aloud and remarked, “Who is speaking? Is it Bhima, also called Vrikodhara,* or is it someone else? The hills have suddenly lost their weight and height and the fire has grown cold. How often have I seen you sitting apart, muttering vengeance, curling your fingers round your mace, and uttering the most fearsome oaths at those in Hastinapura! Is it the same man who speaks now? When the time to fight approaches, you are seized with panic. Alas, you display no manliness, but talk like a frightened child. What has come over you all? Recollect your own strength and promises, Bhima, and do not weaken. Be firm.”
Bhima hung his head in shame and said, “If I have to face the whole world, I will not flinch. But now I speak out of compassion and a chance to save our race—that is all.”
Arjuna said, “Peace, if it is attained without compromise, is certainly to be tried. So, Krishna, please make a last attempt.” Nakula also advocated mildness in approach.
Sahadeva alone among the brothers wanted an ultimatum to be given by the envoy. “Even if the Kauravas want peace, provoke them to a war. How can I, remembering the plight of Panchali the other day at the assembly, feel satisfied with anything less than the death of Duryodhana? Even if all my brothers are disposed to practise virtue and morality, I will go up alone and kill Duryodhana. It is my life’s greatest aim.”
Satyaki applauded Sahadeva and added, “I will not rest until I draw Duryodhana’s blood in battle and I speak for all the warriors assembled here.” At this the company raised a great shout of joy.
Draupadi came forward to express her views. The backsliding of the four brothers made her indignant. “O Krishna, the scriptures declare that it is a sin to kill a harmless person, and the same scriptures declare that not to kill one who deserves it is a sin. Has there been any woman on earth like me? Born out of fire, daughter of the great Drupada, sister of Dhrishtadyumna, daughter-in-law of Pandu, wife of five heroes of the world, and by them mother of five sons.* Still, I was dragged by my hair and insulted by depraved men under the very nose of these heroes, and they sat silently watching my distres
s. I do not know what would have happened if you, Krishna, had not responded to my call for help. And now even Bhima speaks of morality. There is no one to help me… even if my husbands abandon me, my sons are worthy of taking up arms to avenge our wrongs….” She was choked with tears and concluded, “O Krishna, if you wish to do me a favour, let your wrath not be mitigated by what my husbands say, and let it scorch the sons of Dhritarashtra.” She broke down and wept.
Krishna comforted her with the promise, “Have no doubt. The wrongs you have suffered will be avenged. It will soon be their turn, unfortunately, their women’s turn, to wail and weep. The day is coming. Do not fear.”
When Krishna departed for Hastinapura, various omens were noticed there. Out of a clear sky came rumbling thunder and streaks of lightning; fleecy clouds poured down rain; seven large rivers reversed their direction and flowed westward; the horizons became hazy and indistinguishable. Loud roars were heard from unseen sources in the sky; a storm broke out and trees were uprooted. However, where Krishna’s chariot passed, flowers showered down and a gentle cool breeze blew.
Spies had carried reports of Krishna’s departure to Hastinapura, and Dhritarashtra became quite excited. He immediately ordered arches of welcome to be erected all along the route and pavilions to be put up, luxuriously furnished and stocked with food and refreshment, offering entertainment of every kind for the visitor and his retinue.
Dhritarashtra summoned Vidura and said to him, “I want to honour our visitor with gifts of the finest kind—sixteen decorated chariots of gold, drawn by the finest horses, each with attendants; ten elephants with tusks like ploughshares; a hundred maidservants of the complexion of gold, all virgins, and as many men-servants; eighteen thousand blankets, soft as swan feathers, which were presented to us by men from the hills who spun the wool of Himalayan sheep; a thousand deerskins brought from China; and the finest gems in our possession. All are worthy of the great, honourable visitor. All my sons and grandsons except Duryodhana will stand at the city boundary to receive Krishna. Let all our citizens with their wives and children line the route, which must be well watered so the dust is kept down.” He went on elaborating his plans.