THE MAHABHARATA: A Modern Rendering, Vol 1 (74 page)

His brothers saw how drawn and uneasy he was. They saw the dark rings around his eyes, his distracted manner and, knowing he was tried by fire, they grieved for him. But there was little else they could do.

THIRTY-FIVE THE LAKE OF DEATH
 

It was the last month of their exile in the jungle. The Pandavas were back in the asrama at Dwaitavana. One clear morning, a distraught old brahmana arrived there. Breathless from having run through the forest, he cried to Yudhishtira, “Help me, O king! You must help me or my puja will be ruined.”

“What happened, Muni, to disturb your puja?”

“I had hung the arani sticks I use to kindle my sacred fire on the branch of a tree in my asrama. I went into my hut to fetch some ghee for the fire, when I saw a stag run under the tree. The string of the aranis got entangled in the stag’s antlers. They were the same aranis my father and grandfather used and I cannot perform my puja without them. Kshatriyas, you must find the stag and retrieve my kindling-sticks!”

He was so upset he sat down and cried. Yudhishtira and his brothers set out at once in the direction the brahmana pointed, where the stag had gone. Their eyes peeled and their bows in their hands, the Pandavas ran through the familiar jungle. Scraping their bodies against trees, scratching themselves against thorn-bushes until they bled, they combed the forest. They saw no sign of the stag.

After two hours, they came to a part of the jungle they did not know and they were exhausted. Panting, they flung themselves down at the foot of a fine pipal tree. They were as distraught as the brahmana; for it is a kshatriya’s inviolable dharma to help anyone who comes to him in need, spe

cially, a rishi.

Nakula said in despair, “Yudhishtira, why are we cursed like this?”

Parched with thirst, Yudhishtira replied, “My child, in times of misfortune, troubles never come singly. It is to be a trial that they come and we hardly know why: whether for any fault of ours or not. All we can do is bear them resolutely. Those that are enlightened say that whatever we experience in this life, good and bad, are the fruit of our own karma of the past, of our punya and paapa.”

Bheema was quick to seize his chance. “Suffering is always punishment for past sins. And I know what my sin is: I should have never left Dusasana and Duryodhana alive after what they did to Draupadi!”

Arjuna agreed quietly, “You are right, Bheema. I should have never spared Karna after what he said to her that day. But I let him live and I am paying for my sin.”

The mood infected Sahadeva; he cried, “I longed to kill Shakuni, but I stayed my hand. That is why we are suffering like this. Now we shall have the brahmana’s curse as well.”

Yudhishtira smiled at them. “This is no time to reproach ourselves. Thirst churns our minds; we must find some water. Nakula, my brother, climb this tree and see if there is any water nearby.”

Nakula already regretted his innocent query. He shinned up the tall pipal, to its crown. The view of the forest was spectacular, a thousand virescent shades of green and, away to the left, he saw the blue sparkle of water.

He called down, “I see a lake through the trees, not far from here.”

Yudhishtira said, “I am too tired to go another step. Come down, Nakula and fetch us some water in these quivers.”

As Nakula ran through the forest with the quivers strapped to his back, he had the eerie feeling of entering a charmed zone of the jungle. The trees were all unfamiliar and the birds in them sang songs he had never heard. But he pressed on and arrived at the water he had seen from the treetop. It was indeed a calm, blue lake, so inviting that he rushed to it and knelt to quench his searing thirst.

As he raised the cool water in cupped palms, a voice spoke in that place like a crack of thunder. “You may not drink the water from my lake until you have answered my riddles!”

Startled, Nakula looked around; but he saw no one. He bent his face and drank thirstily. Hardly had the sweet, fresh water passed his lips, when the Pandava keeled over, his face turning blue. He fell into a deep swoon, like death.

Meanwhile, back under the pipal tree, the others waited impatiently for Nakula. When there was no sign of him for an hour, Yudhishtira said to Sahadeva, “The lake was not so far that he should be this long. Go and see what has happened to him.”

Sahadeva arrived at the lake and saw Nakula lying dead.

Sahadeva cried, “You have died of thirst, my brother! I had better drink quickly.”

He knelt beside the water and made to fill his cupped hands. Again, the voice spoke crisply out of the very air. “You may not drink from my lake until you have answered my riddles!”

But Sahadeva thought it was a hallucination of his thirst. He drank a mouthful of water and he also fell in the deathlike swoon beside Nakula. Another half-hour went by, then Arjuna said, “I fear they are in some trouble. Shall I go and find them?”

Yudhishtira nodded. By now, the breath rasped in their fevered bodies. Arjuna arrived at the lake. He saw his brothers lay dead, their skin turning blue.

“Ah, who has murdered you, my little brothers? I won’t spare them!” cried Arjuna.

So parched was his throat, only a hollow whisper came from him. Realizing he would be easy prey for whoever had killed Nakula and Sahadeva, Arjuna knelt at the edge of the lake, cupped his palms and scooped up some water. Again, the mysterious voice spoke, “Kshatriya! Answer the riddles I have for you before you drink. Or you will also die.”

Arjuna whirled around and, in a blur, shot twenty arrows where he thought the voice spoke. A soft laugh mocked him. “You will kill innocent jungle creatures, Kshatriya and you will sin. Answer my riddles and drink freely from my lake.”

Arjuna thought this was some playful woodland spirit and he could not bear his thirst any more. Ignoring the voice, he knelt and drank a deep draught of the cool water. Arjuna also keeled over, as if dead.

In a while, Bheema followed Arjuna to the lake. When he saw his brothers, he thought this was the work of some forest yakshas, such as live in trees, have holes in their backs and whose feet point behind them.

“Aaaahh!” roared Bheema weakly. “The yakshas will die for this. But first let me drink, or they may kill me too.”

Again, the voice spoke, “Don’t drink the water from my lake, until you have answered my riddles. Or you die.”

Bheema cried hoarsely, “I will drink. And then, you will die for what you have done to my brothers!”

He knelt, drank and fell beside the others.

Yudhishtira waited another half-hour. By now, he was so weak and thirsty he was certain he could never reach the lake. But when Bheema also did not return, he rose with an effort and stumbled through the trees after his brothers. He had no idea how far the water was and, often almost falling, he staggered along with thirst savaging him.

The world was misting over before Yudhishtira’s eyes, when he arrived at the lake and saw his brothers lying dead. Yudhishtira was too weak to cry out. He tottered forward and collapsed on to his knees beside Bheema.

“Who has done this to my invincible brothers?” whispered Yudhishtira incredulously. “But no blood or struggle marks the place. They haven’t fought, yet they lie dead.”

He passed his hands over their faces. “There has been treachery here and Duryodhana’s dearest wish has come true without a blow being struck in war. Has he done this thing? But by what sorcery? What will I tell Panchali? And Kunti? And to die now, when our exile is almost over.”

He took Bheema’s cold hand and cried, “Bheema, forgive me! I should have listened to you. We should have marched on Hastinapura years ago. How could I have been so blind? I caused you all so much grief and now I have caused your deaths. Oh, my sweet brothers! You may forgive me for this, the Devas and Pitrs may forgive me; but I will never forgive myself.”

Then, he had another thought. “My brothers lie dead before me, their lives’ purposes, all their talents betrayed, the reason for their noble births unfulfilled. Yet, I cannot shed a tear. My mind is bewildered, but my heart is strangely calm…as if nothing has happened. As if they are not dead!”

A pang of thirst convulsed him. He looked at his brothers and wondered if the water was poisoned. But they lay serene, no sign of pain twisted their features. Yudhishtira approached the lake to drink.

The voice spoke again, “The lake is mine. He that drinks from it without answering my riddles dies. I caused your brothers’ deaths. If you drink my water, you will die as well.”

Yudhishtira rose away from the lake. Folding his hands, the Pandava said, “Who are you, great one, who could kill my brothers?”

The voice laughed softly, making Yudhishtira’s skin crawl. It said, “I am a crane and the lake is mine.”

Yudhishtira said hoarsely, “What crane are you, that killed my mighty brothers with no injury upon them?”

The velvet laugh again, “I am no crane, Kshatriya.”

“Who are you then, O Spirit? Are you the lord of the maruts? Are you a rudra, or an airy vasu? Who are you, that slew my brothers, whom not the Devas or gandharvas, not the Asuras or rakshasas could harm?”

“If you must know, Yudhishtira, I am a yaksha.”

“You know my name!”

“There are many things I know, son of Pandu. But our concern is not what I know, but if you can answer my riddles.”

Despite his dead brothers, despite his wild thirst, Yudhishtira’s curiosity was aroused. “I would see you, great one, if you would honor me with that vision.”

Another low laugh, then, a dark mist rose above the water. Within it, Yudhishtira saw a spirit-form stretched right across the lake, huge jewels on its fingers and upon its monstrous breast and its ghastly, ten-eyed face in the very sky, big as a moon. Yudhishtira was not sure whether that twilight being was male or female; he fancied it might have been both. The vision lasted but a moment and the mist faded. Yudhishtira folded his hands to the yaksha, who was invisible again.

The Pandava said, “I am honored that you let me see you, magnificent one.”

The yaksha seemed pleased with Yudhishtira. It spoke to him reasonably, in its clear androgynous voice. “When they knelt at the water, I told each of your brothers they must answer my riddles before they drank. But they would not listen to me, even when they saw the others lying dead. To you also I say, you may not drink unless you answer my riddles first.”

Yudhishtira bowed to the yaksha. He said, “Awesome one, you say the lake belongs to you. How can I drink its fragrant water without your leave? But I am thirsty and I would be grateful if you ask me whatever riddles you have quickly.”

THIRTY-SIX
 

YAKSHA PRASNA: THE YAKSHA’S RIDDLES
 

The yaksha said, “Your brother Arjuna shot arrows at me, but they did not harm me. I said to him, ‘Answer my riddles’. He would not and he drank the water and perished. But you are different; you are humble. I am pleased with you and if you are ready I will ask my riddles.”

Yudhishtira bowed to indicate he was ready. The yaksha allowed the Pandava no time between riddles to collect himself and Yudhishtira answered as quickly as the questions flashed at him. Only occasionally, when the yaksha was pleased with an answer, he would laugh.

“What makes the sun rise?” “Brahma.” “Who are the sun’s companions?” “The Devas.” “Why does the sun set?” “Dharma makes him set.” “In whom does the sun dwell?” “In the Truth.” “What makes one learned?”

“The study of the Srutis.”

“How does a man achieve greatness?”

“By tapasya.”

“Does a man always have a friend?”

“Yes. His intelligence.”

“How is intelligence acquired?”

“By serving one’s elders.”

“Where does the brahmana’s divinity lie?”

“In his knowledge of the Vedas.”

“What diminishes a brahmana’s divinity?”

“He is mortal.”

“What confers divinity on a kshatriya?”

“His weapons.”

“What diminishes him?”

“Fear.”

“Tell me about yagnas. What is Sama? And Yajus? And what is the refuge of a yagna?”

“Life is Sama, the mind is Yajus. Rik is the sanctuary of the yagna.”

“A man breathes, he enjoys every sensual pleasure and the world holds him in esteem. Yet, he is not truly alive. Why?”

“Because he makes no offerings to the Devas or the Pitrs.”

“What is more important than the earth itself?”

“One’s mother.”

“What is higher than heaven?”

“One’s father.”

“What is swifter than the wind?”

“The mind.”

“More numerous than blades of grass?”

“The thoughts in the mind.”

“What is the highest sanctuary of dharma?”

“Liberality.”

“Of fame?”

“A gift.”

“Of heaven?”

“The truth.”

“What is a man’s soul?”

“His son.”

“Who is the friend the Gods give a man?”

“His wife.” “His support?” “The clouds.” “What is the most praiseworthy thing of all?” “Skill.” “The most valuable possession?” “Knowledge.” “The greatest treasure?” “Health.” “The greatest happiness?” “Contentment.” The riddles came breathlessly now and Yudhishtira hardly paused before answering. “What is the highest dharma?” “To injure none of the living.” “What must be controlled?” “The mind.” “What renounced, to make a man agreeable?” “Pride.” “And what renounced to make a man wealthy?” “Desire.” “And what can be renounced with no regret?” “Anger.” “And what may be relinquished to gain happiness?” “Greed.” “What makes the way?” “The good make the way, indeed, they are the way.” “Who is the ascetic?” “He who remains faithful.” “What is true restraint?” “That of the mind.” “And what, true forgiveness?” “He who endures enmity, truly forgives.” “What is real knowledge?” “The knowledge of God.” “What is tranquillity?” “When the heart is still.” “Mercy?”

“When one desires the happiness of all creatures.”

“Simplicity?”

“When the heart is tranquil.”

“Who is the invincible enemy?”

“Anger.”

“What disease has no cure?”

“Covetousness.”

“Who is the honest man?”

“He who desires the happiness of all the living.”

“And the dishonest one?”

“The one who has no mercy.”

“What is ignorance?”

“Not knowing one’s dharma.”

“And pride?”

“When a man thinks that he is the one who is the doer in life.”

By now, Yudhishtira was so engrossed he had quite forgotten his predicament. He was enjoying himself, answering the yaksha’s profound riddles.

“What is grief?”

“Only ignorance.”

“How does a man become patient?”

“By subduing his senses.”

“Which is the true ablution?”

“When the heart is washed clean.”

“What is charity?”

“Protecting all creatures.”

“Wickedness?”

“Speaking ill of others.”

“Who is a brahmana? One who studies the Veda, or one who is born a brahmana?”

“Neither. The true brahmana is he whose life is pure.”

“How is a man agreeable?”

“When he speaks agreeably.”

“How does he get what he wants?”

“When he acts with discernment.”

“How is he happy?”

“When he has many friends.”

“And how does he find bliss in the next world?”

“By being virtuous in this one.”

“What is truly amazing in this world?”

Yudhishtira thought for just a moment. Then he said, smiling, “Every day, countless lives enter into the temple of death. Yet, those who remain in this world think themselves immortal. What could be more amazing?”

The yaksha laughed appreciatively. He asked, “Which is the path?”

“Debate and philosophy lead to no conclusions. The Srutis all differ about the nature of Truth. There is not a rishi, whose opinion is infallible. Yet, the path is within us: the way of dharma, the golden trail the great have trodden through all time.”

“What is the news?”

“This world of ignorance is like a cook’s pan. The sun is the fire. The days and nights are the fuel, the seasons are the ladle. Time is the cook, who stirs us all in the pan. That is the news, what else?”

“Who is a real man?”

“Word of one’s good deeds reach heaven and are spread from there across the earth. As long as that word lasts, one is called a man.”

“Who is he, Yudhishtira, who has every kind of wealth?”

“Only he to whom joy and sorrow, fortune and misfortune, past and future, are all the same.”

The yaksha’s delighted laughter rang across the lake. He said, “I am pleased with your answers! Yudhishtira, you are the wisest man in the world and the most righteous one too. I grant you a boon: ask me for the life of any one of your brothers.”

Unhesitatingly, Yudhishtira said, “Let my dark and handsome Nakula live.”

“I am surprised. I know Bheema is dearest to you among all your brothers. You depend on Arjuna to win the coming war. Yet, you choose Nakula’s life over theirs. Why?”

“I would rather sacrifice my life than dharma. O Yaksha, my father had two wives, Kunti and Madri. One of Kunti’s sons already lives: I. It is dharma that one of Madri’s sons should also live. So I chose Nakula.”

Again the yaksha laughed. “Ah, you are a great soul indeed, Yudhishtira. I will never look upon another like you in all time. I grant you not just Nakula’s life, but the lives of all your brothers!”

Yudhishtira saw Bheema, Arjuna, Nakula and Sahadeva open their eyes and sit up groggily. He ran to them and hugged them. Arjuna said in wonder, “I am not thirsty any more.”

Bheema said, “My tiredness has left me.”

The yaksha materialized again over the lake, covering it from shore to shore. Yudhishtira gazed at the dark form; then he prostrated himself on the ground. The Pandava cried, “My Lord! You are no yaksha. No yaksha knows the subtleties of dharma as you do. No, you are a Deva, or at least someone who loves us dearly. I feel powerful kin with you. Are you perhaps our father Pandu? Show me your true form, whoever you are!”

There was a flash of light above the lake. The monstrous yaksha vanished and in its place stood a God, bright as the sun. His presence transformed the sylvan lake into a realm of wonder. The trees breathed, the very air seemed made of many colors, floating and of subtle music.

The splendent one smiled at Yudhishtira and spoke in a deep and beautiful voice. “I am indeed your father, Yudhishtira my son. I am not Pandu, but Dharma. I wanted to meet you and these heroic brothers of yours, so I came.”

Yudhishtira breathed, “My Lord!”

The radiant one continued, “I am more pleased with you, my child, than I had ever hoped. You are as righteous as I had heard, more so. You and your brothers will conquer the world and you shall sit upon the throne of all Bharatavarsha. But, Yudhishtira, you have already conquered a far greater kingdom. You have conquered the kingdom of dharma: you have conquered yourself! What are worldly conquests, or the thrones they bring, beside this immortal one?

Your fame will live forever, not just on earth but in Devaloka. In the kali yuga, let a man but say your name and he shall be dear to me. Just four names will be so precious: the name of Nala of Nishada, of Rama’s wife Sita, your name, Yudhishtira and the name of the Dark One whom you love so dearly, Krishna of Dwaraka.”

Yudhishtira stood glowing before his natural father. The Lord Dharma said, “My just son, I want to give you another boon. Ask me for anything.”

Yudhishtira did not hesitate. “Lord, we came into the jungle to find a brahmana’s arani sticks. Grant that we may find them, or we will fail in our kshatriya dharma.”

Dharma smiled, “I was the stag in whose antlers the brahmana’s aranis were entangled. Here they are. But that is no boon, ask me for something else.”

Yudhishtira asked wisely, “Grant, my Lord, that we are not discovered during the thirteenth year of our exile, which will soon begin.”

Dharma Deva said, “Which has begun even today. I grant you that boon: go safely back into the world, disguised. No one will see through your disguises. Yet, ask me for something else.”

Yudhishtira knelt before the Lord Dharma. He kissed the Deva’s feet. The Pandava said, “I am the happiest man on earth today that, at last, I have met my father face to face. I want no other material boon from you, for I know we have to struggle in this life and suffer, before we achieve. But if you grant me another wish, let it be that I conquer my six deadly enemies one day.”

The knowing Dharma asked, “And who are they?”

His son said, “The enemies that lurk in my heart: lust, anger, greed, possessiveness, arrogance and envy. Grant me, father, that my mind always leads me toward the Truth. I want nothing else in the world.”

And his father, the great Dharma, said, “You ask for what you already have, Yudhishtira. You have long since conquered these enemies, O prince of dharma. As for the Truth, you will surely come to it in time.”

Dharma Deva blessed them all. At last, he said, “Go, my sons and be joyful. I am with you and you shall be victorious. And remember, wherever dark Krishna is, there I am as well.”

With that and his hand still raised over them in a blessing, he vanished. Their hearts full of fresh hope, the Pandavas walked slowly back to their asrama with the arani sticks. It was time to now seriously consider the disguises they were going to adopt for the thirteenth year of their exile, the ajnatavasa. Duryodhana’s spies would be everywhere, eager to find them and send them back to another twelve years in the wilderness.

They were anxious, but Dharma Deva’s assurance had put new heart in them.