Read THE MAHABHARATA: A Modern Rendering, Vol 1 Online
Authors: Ramesh Menon
The cousins washed in the river and offered sandhya vandana to the Gods. Then they sat in silence on the roots of the stalwart punnaga, where Agni had first approached them. The God of flames had spared just that one tree, as if he had known they would want to sit under it after the forest had burned down. They sat listening to the midnight-blue river murmuring by.
Krishna said, “It is time we returned to the others. They would have seen the fire and heard the screams. They must be anxious for us.”
As they walked back leisurely toward the Kuru camp, they did not notice the tall figure that followed them at a discreet distance. Just before they arrived at the camp, a voice hailed them from the night and the looming figure approached.
AUM, I bow down to Narayana, the most exalted Nara and to the Devi Saraswathi and say
Jaya
!
He came out of the darkness, as Krishna and Arjuna walked wearily back to the Kuru camp near the Yamuna. They saw Mayaa, the Asura, had recovered from the terror of Agni chasing him through the blazing Khandava vana. Laying his head at Arjuna’s feet, he said, “You saved my life. Let me at least tell you who I am.”
“Who are you, friend, that you were living in the Khandava?” asked Arjuna.
“I am Mayaa of the Asuras and I was the architect of my people. I built the Tripura in the sky, which Siva burned with his astra. I am in your debt, Kshatriyas; you must let me repay your kindness. Is there anything I can do for you?”
They saw his skin shone in the falling night and his great eyes were deep and honest. The language he spoke was chaste, of an old strain seldom heard in the world any more and a far cry from the crude dialects of the rakshasas of the day. He was a noble being, from another time.
Fascinated by Mayaa, Arjuna said, “I am happy I could be of use to you, but I never take anything from someone I have helped.”
“I am deeply in your debt; there must be something I can do for you. Anything at all, you only have to name it.”
“It is enough to have you for my friend. You must not feel obliged to me.”
However, Mayaa insisted. “I must show my gratitude, or I will have no peace. It is no common favor you have done me, you have saved my life.”
In the gloom, Arjuna saw the Asura’s eyes glistened with tears. Krishna knew something of Mayaa, that he was among the great Sivabhaktas of all time and a learned Asura to whom Surya Deva revealed the Surya-siddhanta, the secrets of the galaxy. The Dark One said softly to Arjuna, “He is noble and sincere. You mustn’t disappoint him.”
In a moment, Arjuna said to Mayaa, “Do something for Krishna here. That will please me more than anything else.”
Mayaa bowed to the Avatara. “What can I do for you, Lord?”
Krishna grew thoughtful; he saw the germ of fate in the moment. He remembered the task for which he had been born: to remove the burden of evil from the earth, to destroy the power of the race of kings. He saw a vast battlefield heaped with corpses and a skin of blood congealing on it. Briefly, Krishna felt dizzy. He sensed the chance to sow a cunning seed of envy and set the stage for an apocalyptic war. They were no accidents of circumstance: the appearance of Agni or Mayaa, or the burning of the Khandava. Krishna saw fate’s hand in the day’s extraordinary happenings.
He said to the Asura, “I have heard of your genius, Mayaa. Build a sabha for Arjuna’s brother Yudhishtira in Indraprastha. Let it be as wonderful as your own court was, in the Tripura.”
They saw how Mayaa’s eyes misted over at the mention of Tripura. He had been a great king himself, once, in time out of mind, before Siva’s astra consumed his cities in the sky and his people. Mayaa said slowly, “My skill isn’t what it used to be and this age does not support true grandeur. But I will do my best.”
Krishna laughed. “I think the best you can do, even today, will be more than enough for us. But combine the finest styles of building known to the Devas, the Asuras and to men; let your sabha take inspiration from both ancient times and new. Let it be unique.” Krishna paused. “Above all, Mayaa,
let it be the envy of those who set eyes on it!
”
Arjuna looked startled, but Mayaa received this calmly. With a smile, the Asura said, “So it shall be, Dark One and may it serve your purpose.”
Already, images of a majestic sabha for Indraprastha rose vividly in Mayaa’s mind. How he had longed to create something visionary; but who would ask an Asura trapped in the wrong time, an age of humans, to build for them? And he was no longer a king of his people that he could build a court for himself. Eagerly, he seized the chance to use his gifts once more.
These were jealous and dangerous times, thought Mayaa. By now, he knew who the Blue One was. He would build just what Krishna wanted: a sabha to be the cynosure of the world, a sabha that would launch the greatest war of these times. A war to end a yuga with and accomplish an Avatara’s mission in the world.
Floors paved with candent jewels Mayaa saw before his eyes; gleaming domes and towers; walls depicting timeless legends of the Gods in great panels; friezes encrusted with rubies and diamonds, emeralds, sapphires, cornelians and pearls like this age had never seen. He saw gold and silver, employed subtly, tastefully and the most resonant wood available in the jungles of Bharatavarsha. Mayaa saw all this in moments, as a tide of inspiration swept away the cobwebs from his mind.
They arrived at the camp to find the Kuru party had returned to Indraprastha. They rode back to the city in Varuna’s chariot, swiftly as the night wind, bringing Mayaa the Asura with them. The guards at the gates shivered to see the darkly resplendent being with Arjuna. They drove through the streets of Indraprastha and saw how appraisingly the Asura took in the sights of the city.
They brought Mayaa to Yudhishtira, who rose to welcome the mysterious guest, whose presence was so mythic, so out of place in these times in which he did not belong. Mayaa’s eyes smoldered with ancient fires.
The Asura bowed deeply to Yudhishtira. “O King, your brother has asked me to build a sabha for you in Indraprastha. I have accepted the offer as eagerly as a thirsty man does a drink of water. For I have not built anything since the Tripura was torched from the sky.”
He stroked a pillar near him, appreciatively and let his eye rove over the hall in which they sat. Mayaa went on slowly, “Viswakarman has created a magnificent city for you. It will be an honor and a challenge for me to best my old rival in his own city and show that Mayaa is still the greatest builder.”
The others smiled; what did they know of that rivalry? They had not seen the wonder that had been the Tripura: triune, ineffable cities of the air, circling the earth. He would create a sabha for them that would make the rest of Indraprastha seem ordinary. Why just the kings of the world, he would build Yudhishtira a court to make the Devas envious.
Mayaa spent a week studying Indraprastha and its environs, before he decided on the site where he would erect his sabha. Dhaumya was asked to find an auspicious day for the construction to begin. He performed a puja on that day and chanted Vedic mantras to purify the site. The excavation began, to lay the foundations. Like Viswakarman, Mayaa worked with magical powers; but he believed in manual labor too. He knew the hard old way always gave an edifice more depth and grace.
Krishna came to Yudhishtira and said, “I must leave for home. There is much to be done in Dwaraka.”
Yudhishtira looked stricken. “You are the star that guides our destiny. While you are with us, we are free from doubt and fear and see our way ahead clearly. Stay a while longer, Krishna.”
Bheema said, shyly, “We shall be lost without you.”
Sahadeva whispered, “When you go, it is as if our life leaves us.” Nakula nodded agreement with his twin. Arjuna was the most forlorn.
Krishna insisted, “If you need me, only think of me and you will find I am with you always. For I leave my heart in your care. But I must return to Dwaraka now, there are others who need me too.”
They sorrowing and he beyond sorrow, Krishna bid farewell to his aunt and his cousins. One by one, he embraced them and last of all, he came to Arjuna and Subhadra. They were out in the sun now and Daruka, his sarathy, had brought Krishna’s chariot to the palace steps. Krishna clasped Arjuna to him and the Pandava wept. Finally, the Dark One turned to Subhadra, embraced her and said cheerfully, “May I have my chariot back now?”
He had a smile out of his sister and, then, she also began to sob. The people of Indraprastha had filled the streets to bid farewell to the Avatara. Yudhishtira said to Daruka, “Friend Daruka, we have a custom in Indraprastha that when Krishna leaves us, I drive him to the city-gates. So, allow me…”
Daruka got down from his place and the king climbed up to the sarathy’s seat. Arjuna and Bheema climbed into the chariot, with silken chamaras in their hands and Nakula and Sahadeva held the white parasol over Krishna and Satyabhama. They drove through the streets and the people thronged the ratha, in a sea, reaching out to touch the Avatara. On their way to the city-gates, they passed the site for the sabha and saw Mayaa. He ran up and folded his hands to Krishna, who raised a hand in blessing over his dark head.
They arrived at the gates and still Yudhishtira drove the chariot, like a man in a dream he did not want to wake from and find his cousin gone. Krishna said, “Yudhishtira, stop. You have a long walk back to the palace and you are not dressed for walking.”
Reluctantly, the king obeyed. The Pandavas alighted from the chariot and Daruka climbed back on. A last time, Krishna got down and embraced his cousins. Then he got into the Jaitra again and said, “Come Daruka, we must go or we will stand here for ever.”
Bowing to the crestfallen Pandavas, the charioteer flicked his reins and his marvelous horses sprang forward, knowing they were heading home to the city in the sea. The Pandavas stood gazing after the chariot until it was out of sight. Still, they stood on. Finally, Yudhishtira turned back and the others followed him in silence.
In their minds, they followed Krishna’s chariot all the way back to Dwaraka and their deepest thoughts remained with their blue cousin, long after they had ceased to be aware of it.
Soon after they were out of sight of Indraprastha, Daruka turned back to his dark master with a question in his eyes. Krishna nodded to him and, next moment, the unearthly horses rose steeply into the air and they flew the rest of the way to Dwaraka with the wind in their faces.
Day by day, Mayaa’s sabha took shape in Indraprastha. He had brought expert craftsmen from distant parts to work on the edifice. They were silent men and mysterious, who preferred to keep to themselves. They built a colony of hutments around the sprawling site and ventured into the marketplace only to buy themselves food. They did not mingle with the people of the city and Mayaa was pleased that this was so. He felt it kept their minds on their task, which was an undertaking of inspiration.
First, Mayaa erected a huge, skeletal wooden dome. He shrouded it with rough canvas to keep the sun, the wind and the rain out. Below this dome his men labored, by day and often by night. Mayaa himself was one possessed, as he plunged himself into the enterprise, body and soul. He ate little and slept less. Often, in the nights’ last yaama, just before dawn, he could be seen stalking the streets of Indraprastha, alone, talking to himself, talking bare some nuance of design.
Rumor had it that, at times, Viswakarman, who eagerly watched the progress of the sabha, joined Mayaa during these nocturnal strolls, to analyze some delicate problem of structure or aesthetics, for hours. One day, Mayaa came to Arjuna, who was the only outsider he allowed under the covering dome. He said, “When the Tripura burnt I Salvaged some precious things from the inferno and buried them under the Bindusaras, near Kailasa and Mainaka. I want to use those treasures to embellish your sabha.”
Arjuna thought how much more contented the Asura was, since he had begun working. He was absorbed, as if nothing existed any more except his sabha. Arjuna said, “What can I do to help you?”
“Give me some men to go with me, to carry back what I need.”
Arjuna agreed readily and Mayaa set out for the Bindusaras, lake of water-drops. Once when, at Bhagiratha’s long prayatna, the Ganga fell in a starry torrent on to the earth, no one could bear her awesome fall. She was arrogant that it would be the end of the world. Then Siva stood up from the Himalaya, tall as the sky and he caught the falling river in his jata and contained her at the root of a single strand of his hair. Ganga’s pride was broken: struggle as she would, she could not escape from Siva’s head. Bhagiratha begged Siva to let the river flow in the world, for his ancestors’ sake. The Lord released her, drop by painful drop, to flow as a blessing upon the earth and absolve men who bathed in her of their sins.
Where Siva released the river of the sky from his head, a lake formed, which belonged as much to heaven as the earth. It was on the shores of the Bindusaras that the rishis Nara and Narayana once sat in tapasya. It was beside the same lake that Arjuna had sat in dhyana, beneath it that Ulupi had seduced him.
One night of a full moon that illumined the Himalayan landscape like a mystic’s vision, the Asura Mayaa arrived at the Bindusaras with the men Arjuna had given him. The lake lay like a sea before them. It was a still winter’s night, a silvery day and snow lay all around like white fire. Here and there, a thin film of ice covered the water.
What is night for men is day for the Asuras. As soon as he arrived at the Bindusaras, though it was midnight and they had come a long way, Mayaa waded into the icy water. It was thousands of years since he was last here, but he swam unhesitatingly to the middle of the lake. His men sat watching, awed by the beauty of this luminous place poised between swarga and bhumi. Mayaa paused a moment, quite near where Arjuna had plucked the scarlet lotuses. He swam on with powerful strokes.
The Asura seemed like some aquatic creature from another world. He was a strange one, all right; he had hardly said a word to any of the fifty men that had come with him. He seemed wrapped up in thoughts too deep to share, of times so different his companions could not have imagined them. They thought he was the loneliest being in the entire world: a derelict from another age condemned to live in a diminished time.
Yet, now, in the midnight waters of the Bindusaras, the Asura seemed to come alive. He dived under the surface of the lake and was gone interminably. Then he broke water with a shout that shattered the primeval silence of the white valley.
“They’re here!” cried Mayaa. “My treasures are still here.”
He held his hand up above his head. Something crimson and renitent shone in it like a piece of the rising sun. Mayaa swam fluently back to the shore. He showed them the object in his palm: it was a giant phallic ruby, a reverberant Sivalinga. Those men had never heard that, among all Sivabhaktas, Mayaa was among the very greatest.
Briefly the Asura shut his eyes in prayer, then said, “My Lord Siva has kept my treasures safe. Come, we must build a raft in which you can bring ashore what I dive for.”
With fifty skilled men this was quickly accomplished in the morning. Soon, so many parcels—carefully wrapped in oilskin—lay in a pile beside the lake. Mayaa would not allow anyone to undo these and look inside. Most of them shone even by the light of day, as if there were cold fires burning within. Some of the parcels were so heavy, though small enough, that it took three men to carry a single one.
When Mayaa had retrieved the last of the parcels, they set off down the mountain. Not far from the lake, along the loftiest section of a mountain-trail, the chariots from Indraprastha waited. Lading these with the treasures of Tripura, Mayaa and his party rode home. The Asura’s eyes shone with memories of the days when he had been a king of his people.
Back in Indraprastha, Mayaa had his treasures carried safely to the dome of secrecy that covered his growing sabha. To no one did he yet show what was in those parcels, which had lain for an age in a jade cavern under the Bindusaras. Just one of them he brought into Yudhishtira’s palace, to Arjuna’s chambers. Mayaa called Bheema and Arjuna there.
As he untied that large parcel, the Asura was smiling, as he so seldom did. When he had peeled away the rough oilskin, the Pandavas saw an emerald-and-saffron silken layer inside; the cloth was so rich, they had never seen its like. When Mayaa undid the silk as well and laid the package bare, Bheema and Arjuna rose in awe to stare at what lay within.
Delighted that the princes were enchanted, Mayaa picked up the shining mace he had uncovered. Its knobs were golden, its haft jeweled and, when the Asura hefted it, it rumbled like a thundercloud. This was no common gada, but a weapon as old and powerful as the Gandiva. Giving that mace gravely to Bheema, Mayaa said, “May you be invincible in every battle you fight. May you kill your greatest enemy with this gada one day.”
When Bheema received the weapon, it was alive in his hands; he felt its implacable spirit touch him. Mayaa turned to the battle-conch, the sankha that lay on the silk cloth, its presence filling the room. The Asura held the whorled shell out to Arjuna and said, as if it were an old and valued friend, “This is the Devadatta. When you sound him, not just your enemies but the earth will tremble; for he is a great spirit of the ocean.”
Arjuna embraced Mayaa emotionally. “I was the lucky one on the day we met!”
Now Mayaa began to give his sabha its final touches. Night and day he toiled, obsessed that his creation should be perfect. In a tide of visions, intricate plans came to him under the lofty dome that still shrouded the great court. At last, after fourteen months of ceaseless labor, one night Mayaa came to Yudhishtira and said, “Your sabha is ready. I will dismantle the covering dome tonight and you may see it in the morning. I have consulted Dhaumya, tomorrow is an auspicious day.”
When the sun rose the next morning, a gleaming miracle stood revealed before the palace of Indraprastha. Guarded by eight thousand stone kinkaras, Mayaa’s edifice had columns of gold and silver, terraces of crystal and the Pandavas saw it was by far the most magnificent sabha in the world. It made every other royal court on earth seem like stalls beside a great temple. Why, Mayaa’s sabha made even the rest of fabulous Indraprastha seem ordinary.
It was ensconced in sprawling gardens, in which flowers of every kind—kalhara, madhavi, mallika, kuravaka and kadamba, among others—bloomed all together, many unseasonally: as if the sabha was part of a transcendent realm. Enchantment lay upon every part of it.
Pools full of ethereally clear water dotted the gardens. As Mayaa led Yudhishtira and his brothers around1, they saw these pools had floors and banks of blemishlessly white marble. The marble banks were set with clusters of pearl and flights of crystal steps led down to the water. In the water were lotuses made of jewels, some of them solitaires as big as a dove’s eggs. Among these, were real lotuses, fish, tortoises and water birds.
At the lofty doors to the sabha itself, as Mayaa led them in, after the chanting of sacred mantras, was another pool. This was inlaid with precious stones, exactly like the rest of the floor. By a trick of the light that fell on it, the water in the pool reflected the marble of the ceiling so perfectly, that at first the Pandavas mistook it for solid floor. Yudhishtira nearly stepped into it and Mayaa drew him back.
The spectacular central hall of the sabha was elegant as a work of nature, surrounded by countless little terraces. It was lambent with jewel-light: deep emerald and ruby, scintillating sapphire and diamond, dusky coral, mystic amethyst, chrysoberyl and moonstone and other gems no longer found in the world, secret stones set in the walls, ceiling and floor. All you saw was their light, never the stones themselves, unless you inspected the crevices in which they were craftily embedded.
At the head of the sabha, which was six thousand cubits square, was a raised marble platform. On this dais were five crystal-and-golden thrones, encrusted with the most exceptional and auspicious gemstones. These thrones were perhaps the finest reflections of Mayaa’s imagination. Each one was different from the others and each created for a particular Pandava prince.
Mayaa said, “Do you know which throne is for each of you?”
Yudhishtira’s throne was obviously the biggest one, in the center of the platform; but, with no hesitation, the other princes followed Yudhishtira on to the dais and each one sat in his own throne.
Mayaa cried in delight, “So there was no mistake!”
1. Yudhishtira feeds ten thousand brahmanas, come from all over Bharatavarsha, madhurparka, fruit, roots, pork and venision before he enters the sabha. The greatest of them go in and sit with him in that court. Asita, Devala, Satya, Sarpamali, Mahasira, Arvavasu, Sumitra, Maitreya, Sunkaa, Vali, Vaka, Daivya, Sthulasira, Vyasa and his disciples, Suka Sumanta, Jaimini, Paila, Parvata, Markandeya, Savarna, Bhaluki, Galava, Janghabandhu, Raibhya, Kopavega, Bhrigu, Harivabhru, Kaundinya, Babhrumali, Sanatana, Kakshivat, Ashija, Nachiketa, Gautama, Painga, Varaha, Sunaka, Shandilya, Kukkura, Venujangha, Kalapa and Katha are some of the names mentioned.
There were a thousand other marvels in that sabha; and even the Pandavas, who had lived in the grandeur of Hastinapura and the splendor of Indraprastha, were awed by it. Charming little passages led away from the main hall, to numberless smaller halls and atriums. There were other rooms for study and recreation; and up marble-and-wooden flights of stairs were elaborate apartments for each Pandava’s relaxation and pleasure. Mayaa’s sabha could easily serve as another palace in Indraprastha.
The outer walls were so sensitive to light the sabha seemed like an entirely different edifice, at different times of day. The people would say that in the evening you would not recognize it for being the same court it had been at dawn. And on the night of a full moon, it seemed to float on air and, surely, to belong to another, supernatural world.
Yudhishtira turned to the Asura and, bowing to him, said, “Now we can begin to imagine how glorious the Tripura must have been and why its legend has survived the passage of ages.”
Knowing this was the highest praise he could have, Mayaa also bowed. He said, “The Lord of Indraprastha deserves no less. If you are pleased, I am satisfied.”
He could see they were more than pleased: they were entranced by his creation. None of them yet realized what envy it would stir in some hearts and that envy would catalyze the greatest war. Yudhishtira and his brothers wandered around the sabha for hours, as if they could never have their fill of it. The next day, there was a feast to celebrate its completion; the poor were fed, gifts and gold given to them.
Mayaa came to Yudhishtira and said, “My work here is complete. I must return to my family.”
Yudhishtira took him back to the palace. Knowing the habitually solitary Asura would want to leave Indraprastha as soon as he had finished his task, the Pandava king already had several gifts ready for him. At first, Mayaa was reluctant to accept any of them, saying they owed him nothing; it had been his privilege to build the sabha. However, the Pandavas would not hear of this and finally Mayaa left Indraprastha laden with treasures for himself and his family. Many of these were heirlooms fashioned in Devaloka and handed down the Kuru generations from sires of old.
Each Pandava came and embraced the Asura and they wept when he left Indraprastha. Though Mayaa was a taciturn and essentially lone being, he had won their hearts with his generosity and his genius. Engraved on a fine silver sword Yudhishtira gave him, were the words:
To the greatest builder of all.
Arjuna went beyond the gates of Indraprastha to see Mayaa on his way. Suddenly, the Asura had tears in his eyes as he grasped Arjuna’s hands. “May your life always be filled with sweetness. I will never forget you, noble prince, or that you saved my life.”