THE MAHABHARATA: A Modern Rendering, Vol 2 (46 page)

Far from reassured, Jayadratha says, “Can all of us together stop Arjuna from keeping his oath? Duryodhana, we killed his son and fear grips me like a pisacha!”

Duryodhana sighs, “If you won’t take my word, let us go to the Acharya and see what he says.”

In Drona’s tent, Jayadratha asks the master, “Acharya, tell me, am I the better archer or is Arjuna?”

Drona says slowly, “You are both great bowmen and you have the same guru. But Arjuna is more dedicated than you; not a day passes when he does not practise with his bow for hours. For him archery is worship. He also has the devastras and he is more resilient than you are.

But all that does not matter: I will save you from Arjuna tomorrow. I will form a vyuha whose mystery he will never penetrate. We will set you at the heart of it and, guarded by us all, you will be safe.”

Jayadratha is still unconvinced, anxiety plain on his face. As if this doubt is a slight to him, Drona says impatiently, “I will do everything I can to protect you. But if it is fated that Arjuna kills you, what shame is there in dying in battle? How splendidly young Abhimanyu met his death today. All that are born must die; and what finer death is there for a kshatriya than to die fighting a war like this one? If Arjuna kills you, Jayadratha, you will find heaven for yourself!”

Jayadratha trembles more than ever. With a sigh, Drona says, “Listen to me. We must save your life tomorrow, not only for your sake but for the very war. I mean to form not one, or two, but three vyuhas and to hide you at the heart of them. On the outside, we shall have a shakata vyuha, within that a chakra and finally a suchimukha vyuha, with you at the needle’s eye, watched over by a column of maharathikas. I will stand over all three vyuhas and anyone who enters them will first have to pass me.

Arjuna has delivered his life into our hands. Even if he breaks past the shakata and chakra vyuhas, it will take him all day. Then, the third and most difficult vyuha will confront him; and I will be at its point again. The sun will have set long before he can reach you.”

Jayadratha seems consoled. Duryodhana moistens his lips in anticipation of Arjuna’s death.

Later that night, across Kurukshetra, Krishna comes alone to Arjuna’s tent. Arjuna lies stiff as an arrow in his bed, his eyes streaming for his son, but his face set like stone. He must keep his vow. First, Jayadratha would die tomorrow. But the others wouldn’t escape, the six cowards who had hunted his child down like an animal.

Krishna glides in and sits beside Arjuna. He says, “That was a rash oath you swore. Where was the need to say you would take your own life if you don’t kill Jayadratha tomorrow? Duryodhana knows about your oath and Drona means to hide Jayadratha at the heart of three vyuhas, with every soldier of his army charged to protect one man’s life.”

Arjuna lies in the darkness, silent. Krishna continues, “A shakata vyuha, first, with Drona at its threshold, then a chakra and finally, a vyuha to confound even you: a suchimukha, with Jayadratha at its eye. And the body of the needle will have their finest warriors, one after the other, Karna, Aswat-thama, Bhoorisravas, Vrishasena, Durjaya, Duryodhana, Shalya, Kripa, Durmukha and Drona, again, following you in. Can you break past all these in time to kill Jayadratha before the sun sets?”

Arjuna is perfectly calm. He says with unusual certainty, “All these men together are not half the archer I am. Drona and his son will not stand before me tomorrow; nor will Karna or any of the others. Jayadratha will die before the sun sets. How will he not die, when my child Abhimanyu will be watching to see if I keep my oath?

Why are you of all people so full of doubt, Krishna, when we shall be irresistible tomorrow? Think of it like this: we have the noblest weapon with us, the Gandiva. Some say Arjuna is the best archer in the world and the greatest man who ever lived is my sarathy. When you are with me, Lord, how will I fail?”

Arjuna cannot be certain if Krishna smiles in the night. They sit together without speaking for a time and Abhimanyu fills their thoughts. Arjuna says, “I cannot face Subhadra tonight. I can’t bear to see her cry. I haven’t the strength to console Uttaraa. I beg you, go and comfort them for me. Tell them I will see them tomorrow, when I have kept my oath.”

Krishna goes to his sister’s tent. He finds her crying as mothers have since the dawn of time, whenever they lost a son to a bestial war. She sits on the floor, her hair loose, convulsed with sobs. The princess Uttaraa sits beside her, pale, numb, tears flowing down her shocked face. Subhadra rises when Krishna comes in. With a wail she runs into his arms and breaks down utterly. Tears springing in his own eyes, Krishna holds her, while she weeps in tides of grief.

Gradually, Subhadra calms down and they sit beside each other again; she never lets go of his hand. Long they sit, in silence. He wipes her tears with dark fingers and says gently, “You mustn’t grieve like this. Abhimanyu has reached Devaloka; he is part of the Moon. He is blessed, he is blissful and he died as only the very greatest kshatriyas do. His name is already a legend. Men will always say he was the most perfect prince that ever lived. You must not grieve like this for a warrior who lived as full a life as he did and died a death for which other men would vie.

Subhadra, you are a daughter of the House of Vrishni. You are the wife of the greatest archer in the world. Your brothers are kshatriyas, you son was a great kshatriya. You must not cry. We are in the midst of a war, for which your child gave his life. This is no time for weakness.”

Subhadra says, “How can I not cry, Krishna? I think of my boy, whom I carried as a golden baby in my arms, whom I nursed at my breast. I think of him lying on Kurukshetra, his body torn and bloody, his head crushed: and how can I not cry? The five Pandavas are alive, peerless Arjuna and Krishna are alive. Yet, my child lies dead, with kites and hyenas picking his bones. Oh, how could this happen, Krishna? I thought the sons of Pandu are the mightiest kshatriyas on earth, but I see I was wrong. Otherwise, with his uncles beside him, how was my son killed? He was just sixteen and you tell me that I should not cry because he died a kshatriya’s death? What do I care about that? To me, my child is dead and that is all!”

Sobs wrack her again. Krishna holds her close. When her storm abates, he says, “This is your sorrow speaking, Subhadra. Abhimanyu was killed treacherously by the evil ones we fight. Arjuna and I were lured away from the main battle; then the murderers enticed our child into the chakra vyuha and killed him. They broke his bow from behind, because not all of them together could stand against your son in battle.

Adharma has been born into the world and the kali yuga rises over the earth. But the murderers will not escape punishment. Already, Arjuna has sworn to kill the man who sealed the chakra vyuha after Abhimanyu broke into it. Before the sun sets tomorrow, Jayadratha will die; and that will be just the beginning of our revenge. The cowards will all die and their deaths will not be so noble as your child’s. Think that Abhimanyu is now one of the Gods and he covered himself in glory before he died.

Subhadra, how is it you cry so bitterly only when your own boy is dead? Do you know how many thousands of mothers have lost their sons to this war? Their tears flow in a river that fills the night. It is a river that sprang in this world long ago, when the very first war was fought; and the river of grief will flow on until the world ends. Dry your tears, Subhadra and console this child Uttaraa. She needs your strength now and instead you show her your weakness.”

Draupadi comes in and she is hardly less broken than Subhadra. But she is brave and far stronger for what she has endured these thirteen years. Subhadra and Uttaraa turn to her, almost as to a mother and Panchali comforts them as only another woman can. Krishna returns to Arjuna’s tent.

His warrior is waiting for him, now ready with his offerings. This is a nightly ritual and Krishna sits quietly before the Pandava, who worships him with flowers, fruit, incense and honey. The Avat-ara places a hand on Arjuna’s head, blessing him. He says, “Jaya vijayi bhava.” May you always be victorious. “You must sleep now, Arjuna. You must be fresh and rested tomorrow.”

Turning down the lamp, Krishna goes out into the night, where his sarathy, the faithful Daruka, waits with his chariot to take him to his own tent. Krishna climbs in. They drive back slowly, with a breeze full of prophecies caressing their faces.

TWELVE
ARJUNA’S DREAM 

Past midnight, Krishna lies awake in his bed. He gets up and sends for Daruka. He makes the sarathy sit beside him. Krishna takes Daruka’s hand and says, “You have heard about Arjuna’s impetuous oath. So has Duryodhana and he plans to guard Jayadratha like his own life. Drona will form three vyuhas and keep Jayadratha at the eye of the third, protected by their maharathikas. If Arjuna doesn’t kill Jayadratha before the sun sets tomorrow, he must take his own life.”

Daruka sits listening. Krishna goes on, “I know what a kshatriya Arjuna is. But it will be harder to pass Drona and the others tomorrow than it was to kill the Nivatakavachas. Then, it is dakshinayana and the sun will set early. I am afraid for Arjuna. There are sinister powers, greater than we know, which watch over Duryodhana’s destiny. They will bend their will to keep Jayadratha safe and have Arjuna’s life cheaply.”

The sarathy has never seen his master’s black eyes so anxious. “Daruka, you know how much I love Arjuna. Why, I love him more than I do anyone in the world, more than my queens or my sons. He is part of me as no one else is. If Arjuna were to die tomorrow, I would follow him into the fire.”

A flicker of alarm in Daruka’s eyes; he has not heard Krishna speak like this before. He remembers something he had heard from the lips of mystic rishis and wise old men: Arjuna and Krishna were born on the same day; they are Nara Narayana. The Dark One lowers his voice, “And if we both die, Daruka, how will the others resist the evil that wants to sweep everything before it? I have sworn I will not fight in this war. But I will perjure myself and break my vow so Arjuna may keep his.”

He glances around, for the night has ears. Drawing the sarathy nearer, Krishna whispers, “You must do something for me, old friend. Prepare my own chariot tonight for war. Arm it with all my weapons; put the Saringa in it and my quiver, the Kaumodaki and my Shakti. Tie on the Garuda banner, but don’t unfurl it yet. Cover Valahaka, Saibya, Meghapushpa and Sugriva in their armor and yoke them. You also don mail and wait at the edge of the field.

If you hear me blow a rishabha on the Panchajanya, fly to me, Daruka. I will kill Karna, Duryodhana and the rest. I will loose the Sudarashana at them and we will see how their fine vyuhas stand before my Chakra. Be ready from dawn, Daruka, listen for the rishabha on my conch.”

Daruka says, “I will do as you say, my Lord. But when you are his sarathy, how will Arjuna not keep his vow? How will Jayadratha not die before the sun sets tomorrow?”

Krishna smiles, “It will do no harm to be prepared.”

“Your chariot and weapons will be ready. So shall I.”

The sarathy bows and leaves. With a sigh, and somewhat relieved, Krishna lies down on his bed; with a prayer for Abhimanyu, he falls asleep. In another tent, Arjuna also lies in his bed and he is full of disquiet. But he is tired after the harrowing day and drifts off into a troubled slumber.

Arjuna dreams and Krishna appears in his dream. The Dark One says to him, ‘You must not grieve like this; you will only strengthen your enemies. Anxiety is a sickness, Arjuna; it saps you. I am with you, my friend, fear nothing.’

Arjuna answers him, ‘Will I be able to kill Jayadratha before the sun sets tomorrow? If I cannot, the world will mock me and I must take my own life.’

Krishna grows thoughtful. ‘Do you remember Indrakila, O Pandava? You sat on that mountain in tapasya to have a weapon from Mahadeva. Do you remember how Siva came to you as a vetala? You fought the Lord, Arjuna and he was so pleased with your warrior’s worship he gave you his Paasu-patastra. You must use the Paasupata against Jayadratha and he will not live.’

‘But where is that astra, Krishna?’

‘Come, sit with me in dhyana,’ says Krishna.

In the dream, Arjuna purifies himself; touching holy water, he sits before the Avatara. He shuts his eyes and feels Krishna’s grace upon him. Krishna says, ‘Meditate on the Lord Siva.’

In dhyana, Arjuna feels himself leave his body. Krishna is beside him and holds the Pandava’s hand. Together they fly through a cerulean sky, swift and straight as two arrows. They fly north, cleaving the wind. It is a lucid dream and Arjuna sees everything that lies below him. Across the Himalaya, range of a hundred peaks, they flit and still they flash on, always north. They pass Hima-van and fly over a vast tableland, dotted with crystal lakes. On they fly, until they see the most pristine lake of all: the Manasarovara.

Beyond the lambent waters of the Manasa, a lone mountain looms, its peak rounded like a full moon, or a gigantic pearl. This is Kailasa, most sacred of mountains, anointed with opalescent snow. Krishna and Arjuna fly closer to the mountain like a vision. Suddenly, its higher slopes turn blinding, as if a hundred suns have risen upon it. Siva sits on a white ridge, ineffable Uma at his side and they swathe Kailasa with their light.

Krishna and Arjuna fly down to Siva’s feet. They prostrate themselves before the God of Gods. They eulogize him with the Satarudriya, his thousand names. Siva smiles. Laying his hand on their heads, he blesses them. He says in his voice deeper than the sky, ‘Tell me what boon you have come for, Nara Narayana.’