The Mahabharata (5 page)

Presently, Drona gathered all his pupils and announced, “The time has come to demand of you my fee for the training and guidance I have given you. I have waited for this occasion all my life.”

When they all assured him that they would give him whatever he asked, he just said, “Now you must march on Panchala, seize their King, whose name is Drupada, and bring him prisoner before me. If you succeed in this effort, you will have fulfilled my lifelong ambition.”

Without asking for any word of explanation, they assured him, “We will set out this minute.”

“Yes, but listen first to this story,” explained Drona. “When I was young, I lived with my father, Bharadwaj, who was a great teacher. He trained me so that I could be a teacher in my time, and if you have learnt anything now, it
is all what he had taught me originally. My classmate at that time was the son of one Prishta, who came every day to our hermitage to study in my company and then play with me. We were good friends. When Prishta died, my friend succeeded to the throne. He bade me farewell, and assured me not to hesitate if I needed his help at any time. When my son Aswathama was born, my father was no more and I had a difficult time. When the child cried for milk and I could not get it for him, I felt desperate, and I thought of visiting my friend to ask for a cow. His guards at the palace gate stopped me. I then ordered them to go in and announce to the Prince—as I had known him—that his old friend had come to see him. He made me wait at the gate till the evening, and then two guards escorted me, as if I were a prisoner, to his august presence. As he sat there on a high seat, surrounded by his courtiers, I felt like a beggar looking up at him.

“‘Who are you? What do you want?' he asked majestically. I explained who I was and how I had come to visit him as an old friend. ‘Friend!' he repeated sneeringly and looked about. His courtiers sniggered politely, stared at me with surprise, and shook their heads. I repeated the word ‘friend' again, whereupon the King from his eminence said, ‘Oh, ignorant one, don't you realise that there can be no such thing as friendship between persons of unequal status? How can a king be a friend of a man in want, such as you? Obviously, you have come to ask for something. Yes, that you shall have for travelling so far. I see that you are a brahmin in want, but don't ask for friendship. It can never be. Take the gift and be gone.' He turned to a courtier and said something and continued, ‘It may be that we were at some stage thrown together through special circumstances, but don't you realise that time changes everything? There can be no such thing as permanent friendship; it is a childish notion…. Now you may go, take the presents they will bring you and go away.'

“I stood speechless with rage. I could not bring myself to
mention my child. I could hardly believe that this was the same man I had played with under the trees of our hermitage until his elders came after him in the evening to take him home. I was too angry to say more than, ‘I will wait till the same “time” you speak of comes round to give me a chance to speak to you again.' I turned on my heel and left, while they ran after me with all sorts of gifts in a bundle. I threw the bundle at the palace gate and went home. Thereafter, I wandered here and there, and when I came to this city, Bhishma recognized me and engaged me to be your teacher. Now let me demand my fee. Go out all of you, attack Panchala with the best of your arms, chariots, and soldiers, and bring that Drupada back a prisoner, alive….”

Soon the engines of war rolled on, and the young men were delighted to test their skill in arms. In a matter of days, they returned with the booty asked for, King Drupada, as captive. They placed him before their master Drona, who addressed him from his eminent seat: “Aswathama, who is my son, was a child in need of milk when I approached you for help to acquire a cow for his sake. Today, he is a warrior in his own right; he joined my other pupils in besieging your city—all on my order. I could take your life, if I chose, but have no fear. I am not vindictive, still valuing the memory of our boyhood days. I will give you back half your kingdom, unasked. The other half I will keep and rule, so that we may remain equals. I will always be your friend; have no doubt about it.”

D
HRITARASHTRA
, in an excess of affection for his nephews, announced Yudhistira as his heir apparent, and immediately he regretted it. The heir apparent and his brothers appeared to take their roles too earnestly. The brothers together and separately led expeditions around the neighbouring kingdoms, conquered territories, and expanded the empire of Kurus. They became heroes in the eyes of the public, who discussed their exploits constantly.

As became a king, Dhritarashtra constantly enquired of his spies, “What are people talking about?” The spies reported how at the market-place everyone was talking about Arjuna's exploits, the feats of Bhima, or the greatness of Yudhistira. The King would have preferred his sons to be mentioned also, but there was no reference to Duryodhana or his brothers.

He called his chief minister, a man versed in political
subtleties, and asked him confidentially, “Did you notice how Pandu's sons are trying to become popular, overshadowing everyone else? I am not feeling happy about it. You realise that my sons and nephews are equally endowed, but those boys are going too far. Please advise me. You know what I have in mind.”

The minister, astute and cunning, replied, “Yes, yes, I understand. I was preparing to bring up this subject myself.” He then elaborated on his thesis as to how a king should protect himself from enemies within and without, and how ruthless he should be in guarding himself. “Keep your teeth sharp enough to give a fatal bite at any moment. You should stand in fear even of those from whom you could expect no treachery. Never trust anyone or show your distrust openly. There can be no kith and kin for a king, if Your Majesty will forgive my saying so. We must place our spies not only in foreign kingdoms, but in our midst too; in public gardens, places of amusement, temples, drinking halls; in the homes of ministers, chief priest, chief justice, heir apparent and heir presumptive; and also behind doorkeepers and drivers of chariots…. Our sources of information must be widespread and unlimited. Every report, however slight, must be scrutinised and assayed. For a long time I have been considering various measures of security to be enforced in this palace, only now do I dare talk about it.” He suggested in a subtle, roundabout manner that the King should exile his nephews.

Duryodhana, after making sure that his father's complacency was shaken, whispered to him in the privacy of his chamber, “We must look to our safety; the time has come. Our spies report that the citizens expect Yudhistira to be crowned any minute. You made a mistake in declaring him heir to the throne. People conclude that you are abdicating because of your handicap, as you had done once in favour of Pandu. We must wake up. I will try to wean away the more important sections among the people with gifts and honours,
so that they may start speaking in our favour. It will work, but gradually. Meanwhile, it is important that we get Pandu's sons out of the capital—temporarily, at least. If Pandu's son becomes king, and after him, his son or his brothers, or their sons, and then their sons, we will be nowhere. There is no cause for you to feel alarmed. In your lifetime you will be cared for. Bhishma is here, and Pandu's sons will not dare to touch your person. But others, the sons of the blind ex-King, will be doomed.”

Dhritarashtra waited for a chance to speak to Yudhistira, whose hours were fully occupied in the performance of his duties as heir apparent. He consolidated the territories he had won for the King, listened to public grievances, and inspected the army, encouraging the generals with words of praise and decorations. He was accessible to all and sundry, and hardly disturbed his uncle with affairs of the state.

Dhritarashtra waited for two days, and then summoned Yudhistira. “How hard-working you are!” he said. “It is my good fortune to have your help; you have relieved me of much fatiguing work. However, I have begun to feel that you must have a change, some relaxation. I am thinking where you should go if you wish to… ”

He paused, as if to consider several possibilities. Panic had made him crafty. He had already decided, on the advice of Duryodhana, to send Yudhistira to a place named Varanavata, at a safe distance from the capital. He continued, “During the coming festival of Shiva, the town will be full of gaiety, and I have no doubt you will enjoy this holiday. Take your mother and brothers along; take a lot of gifts with you so that you may distribute presents liberally to artists, performers, and learned men; stay as long as you like at Varanavata. After all, the heir to the throne must become familiar with all parts of the country and must have been seen by all his subjects before he ascends the throne.”

Yudhistira understood the implications of this generous offer, but kept his thoughts to himself.

On a certain day fixed by the astrologers, Yudhistira took leave of his uncle and, with his brothers, started for Varanavata in several chariots. A large body of citizens followed, a few among them expressing their suspicion about the motives of the King. Yudhistira assuaged their fears and suspicions. “Our King is our father, concerned with our welfare. He means well for us. We will come back after enjoying our holiday.”

As a piece of courtesy, Bhishma and Drona and other elders escorted the Pandavas part of the way, and then turned back. Vidura accompanied them farther, up to the frontier of the capital, where a group of citizens still surrounded them.

Before bidding them farewell, Vidura uttered a warning in a code language: “One who understands his enemy can never be hurt. One should realise that there are sharp weapons, though not of steel, that could strike if one is not watchful. What consumes wood and straw can never reach a hole; remember that the jackal emerges from many outlets underground. The wanderer may know the direction by the stars and survive by firmness of mind.”

Yudhistira answered in the same manner, “I have understood.”

Later, when the others had left and they were proceeding along, Kunthi remarked, “You and Vidura were conversing in a strange dialect before parting. We could not make out what you were saying. What was it?”

“You will understand in course of time. Let us not talk of it now,” replied Yudhistira.

The citizens of Varanavata received the Pandavas with great enthusiasm. They were invited into many homes. They mixed with the crowds and enjoyed the excitement of the Shiva festival. Among those who had received them with a great show of warmth was one Purochana, an architect,
who was Duryodhana's agent. He had designed for the Pandavas an exclusive mansion named the House of Joy, fitted with luxurious beds, carpets, and couches of original design, and stocked with food and drink. The five brothers and their mother each had separate accommodations with every comfort.

But when Purochana had left them alone, Yudhistira took Kunthi aside. “The wretch thinks I don't know. Mother, this is what Vidura warned us about. If you sniff deeply, you will notice the smell of oil, resin, and straw, which are packed behind those gilded walls. The man lives here, to ward off suspicion, but he is waiting for a signal from our beloved cousin to start a fire at midnight. Let us be watchful and not betray any sign that we know.”

As hoped, a few days later, there came a quiet visitor, a messenger from Vidura. He identified himself by quoting Vidura's parting message to Yudhistira, “Remember the jackal emerges from many outlets… ” to which Yudhistira replied, “I have understood.”

The visitor said, “I am a specialist in digging mines. I can make subterranean tunnels.” When Yudhistira took him aside, the miner continued, “Purochana has been ordered to wait for the dark half of the month and start the fire on the fourteenth day at midnight, when you are asleep.” With a grim smile, Yudhistira remarked, “How thoughtful of them!”

“I will complete my work well before that time,” said the miner. “May I look through this mansion and select a spot for excavation? No one must hear the sound of our crowbars.”

In a central portion of the house, a chamber of thick walls and doors, the miner dug up the floor behind closed doors, taking care not to rouse Purochana's suspicion. When the pit was ready, its mouth was covered with planks and camouflaged, while the miner's men went underground and built a tunnel. Purochana, unsuspecting, continued to play the
role of steward to the Pandava household, and the citizens of Varanavata never had any inkling of the intrigues and counter-intrigues, but rejoiced to see so much of the Pandava princes in their midst.

When the tunnel was ready, Kunthi invited the public to a grand feast. After the guests had been fed and seen off, Yudhistira said to his brothers, “It is time for us to leave, too.”

They opened the secret passage, and after everyone had gotten in, Bhima remained behind to set fire to the house, starting with the room in which Purochana was sleeping. It was a successful conflagration. The material being what it was, very soon the whole building was in flames. By the time the town woke up to it, the Pandavas had proceeded far into the tunnel.