dharme cārthe ca kāme ca mokṣe ca bharatarṣabha
yad ihāsti tad anyatra yan nehāsti na tat kva cit
yad ihāsti tad anyatra yan nehāsti na tat kva cit
Adiparva – Section 56 and Sloka 33
"In the realm of dharma, artha, kama, and moksha, (ethics, economic development, pleasure, and liberation), whatever is found in this epic may be found elsewhere, but what is not found here will be impossible to find anywhere else."
The Mahābhārata
The Rājasūya Sacrifice
Arjuna was becoming successful in his conquests. He first overpowered the king of the Kulindas, then the Anastas, then the Kalkuttas. He defeated the many kings on the island continent of Sakala, then encountered King Bhagadatta, a powerful warrior. The battle with Bhagadatta lasted eight days, but finally when the king found himself overpowered, he agreed to accept Yudhiṣṭhira’s rule.
Arjuna continued toward the north. He reached the mountains and vanquished the many barbarian tribes. Arriving in Kashmir, he subdued the region’s kṣatriyas, then passed over the Himālayas. To the north of the mountains lay the land inhabited by the Kimpuruṣas, semi-celestial beings born of Yakṣa women. Incensed at the approach of a human army, they fought a fierce battle, but finally Arjuna subdued them. The Pāṇḍava then conquered the land of the Guhakas, another tribe of celestial fighters, followed by a region inhabited by Gandharvas.
Finally Arjuna arrived in Harivarṣa, the land where the Northern Kurus dwelt. At the border, a number of powerful, large-bodied guards stopped him. They said, “O Arjuna, this land cannot be entered by humans. If you try you will perish along with your army. Indeed, even if you were able to enter, you would not see anything, because human eyes cannot see this land or its residents. Go back. There is nothing to be conquered here. Your conquests are already sufficient. We are pleased with you and will happily offer you a gift. What would you like?”
Arjuna bowed respectfully to the divine beings and said, “I desire Yudhiṣṭhira’s imperial dignity. If you accept him as the emperor of this wide earth, then please give something as a tribute.”
The Northern Kurus immediately offered Arjuna a large number of celestial clothes and ornaments, saying, “We know you and your brothers to be great servants of the Supreme Lord. Go now with our blessings. May you always gain victory.”
Taking all the wealth he had won, Arjuna returned to Indraprastha and reported his success to Yudhiṣṭhira.
Bhīma had in the meanwhile marched to the east with a powerful army. He first encountered the Pañchālas who happily accepted Yudhiṣṭhira’s rule. Then he overcame in battle the Gandakas, Videhas and Dasharnas. One by one Bhīma subdued the many kings in the east. When he reached Chedi he was received graciously by its king, Śiśupāla, who enquired, “My dear Pāṇḍava, what are you bent upon doing?”
Bhīma told him about the Rājasūya and Śiśupāla smiled. He agreed to attend and offer tribute to Yudhiṣṭhira. Although he had an old enmity with Kṛṣṇa, he respected the Pāṇḍavas as righteous and powerful rulers. The king offered Bhīma his hospitality for some days, then the Pāṇḍava continued on his way.
Bhīma overpowered the kingdoms of Kumāra, Kośala and Ayodhya. He reached the wetlands at the foot of the Himālayas and subjugated all the kings in that area. Moving on from there, Bhīma encountered the mighty races of the Matsyas and the Malavas. Such noble kṣatriyas had never known defeat, and out of pride in their strength and reputation, they felt obliged to resist Bhīma’s request that they surrender to Yudhiṣṭhira, although they bore the Pāṇḍavas no enmity. Eventually, however, Bhīma vanquished them in battle.
Either by diplomacy or force, Bhīma subjugated dozens of kings. Many of them then joined him as he marched on, bringing tribute to offer to Yudhiṣṭhira in Indraprastha. Those kings who did not surrender were slain by the Pāṇḍava. Others gave him profuse wealth. Bhīma amassed enormous quantities of gold, silver, gems, valuable cloth, sandalwood, blankets, carpets, coral and ivory, all of which he packed on the backs of a long train of elephants and asses. Bhīma even subjugated the powerful Karṇa, ruler of Aṅga, as well as all the other kings in the region who were loyal to him and Duryodhana. After conquering many barbarian tribes he finally returned to Indraprastha and offered everything he had acquired to Yudhiṣṭhira.
On his expeditions to the south Sahadeva had defeated many kings: Surasena, Ādirāja, Dantavakra. He reached Kuntībhoja’s kingdom and his grandfather received him with great affection. From there he went on to conquer the kingdoms of Jambaka, Sheka and Avantī. After crossing the Narmada River he arrived at Bhojakota where he fought a long battle with King Bhīṣmaka. Although Bhīṣmaka was favorable to the Pāṇḍavas and had been happy to see his daughter Rukmīṇī become Kṛṣṇa’s principal queen, he wanted to test the Pāṇḍavas’ power. After two days fighting, he admitted defeat at Sahadeva’s hands.
Like his other brothers, Sahadeva subdued numerous kingdoms by both diplomacy and force. When he came to Māhiṣmatī, he encountered King Nīla, who was a friend of the fire-god Agni. As Sahadeva stood in battle against the king, it appeared as if he and his entire army were on fire. Flames sprang from the earth and surrounded them on all sides. Thousands of soldiers and chariots were reduced to ashes. Sahadeva saw even his own life threatened as the fire swept toward him. He could understand that Agni was assailing him. The Pāṇḍava quickly dismounted from his chariot and knelt in prayer to the fire-god. “O exalted one, you are the mouth of the gods into which all oblations are placed. You sanctify everything, from you the Vedas have sprung and you are sacrifice itself. O greatest of gods, please endow me with your energy. O bearer of all sacrificial offerings, do not place obstacles before Yudhiṣṭhira’s sacrifice.”
As Sahadeva prayed, the flames gradually died down. Agni then appeared in person before him and said, “O descendent of Kuru, rise up. I was only trying you. I understand your purposes and those of your brother, Dharmarāja. I always protect this city, but I shall help you to accomplish your aims.”
Agni then went to King Nīla and told him to receive Sahadeva with honor and offer Yudhiṣṭhira tribute. The king explained how his beautiful daughter had won Agni’s heart, and now they were married. Thus he protected the city. On his order, however, the king would gladly accept Yudhiṣṭhira’s rule.
Sahadeva moved on to conquer various cannibal races, including one powerful tribe known as the Kalamukhas. They were a cross between Rākṣasas and humans. He also fought a long battle with the Vanaras at Kiṣkindhyā, headed by Mainda and Dvivida, until they finally agreed to accept Yudhiṣṭhira’s righteous rule. The tribes of Niṣadhas, Yavanas, Pandyas, Dravidas, Andhas, Talavanas and many others were all subjugated. At last, he returned to Indraprastha with vast amounts of wealth.
In the west Nakula conquered the hilly countries, followed by the deserts. The Mattamayurakas, Sivis, Trigartas, Amvashtas and Karṇatas were all subdued. He reached Madras where his uncle Śalya received him affectionately and gave him great wealth for the sacrifice. Then he went on to conquer the mleccha and Yavana tribes on the west coast. Having fully established Yudhiṣṭhira’s supremacy in that direction, he too returned to Indraprastha.
Yudhiṣṭhira joyfully received all his brothers back from their expeditions. None now stood in opposition to his authority. His treasury was also so full that it could not be emptied even in a hundred years.
* * *
It was almost time for the Rājasūya. Kṛṣṇa, as promised, returned to Indraprastha accompanied by His wives and relatives. The great Yadu and Vrishni army also arrived with Him, and as they entered the city they filled it with the rattle of chariot wheels and the blast of conchshells. The already inexhaustible ocean of gems the Pāṇḍavas possessed was filled to overflowing when Kṛṣṇa presented His gifts.
When Kṛṣṇa and His relatives had all been properly received, Yudhiṣṭhira sat with Him in his assembly hall and said, “O Kṛṣṇa, it is for You alone that this vast earth has been brought under my sway. Indeed, only by Your grace has this been possible. I wish now to devote all my wealth to the Brahmins and to Agni, the carrier of sacrificial offerings. Please grant me permission to perform the Rājasūya sacrifice.”
Kṛṣṇa praised Yudhiṣṭhira’s many virtues. “You deserve the imperial dignity without any doubt. Perform the sacrifice. If it is successful, I shall consider it My own success. I am always seeking your good and will do whatever I can to assist. Appoint Me in some office and I shall obey your commands.”
Yudhiṣṭhira asked Vyāsadeva to take charge of the sacrifice. Thus Vyāsadeva himself became the chief priest. Then he appointed Yājñavalkya, Soshama, Paila and Dhaumya Ṛṣis as his assistants. Together they constructed the six sacrificial altars in the vast compound marked out at a sacred place near the city.
Yudhiṣṭhira had arranged for the construction of mansions to house the thousands of kings in attendance, as well as quarters for the other classes of men. Innumerable Brahmins were streaming into Indraprastha, and each was received with gifts of wealth and offered comfortable accommodation.
When the party from Hastināpura, headed by Dhṛtarāṣṭra and Bhīṣma, arrived, Yudhiṣṭhira personally received them with love. He bowed at his elders’ feet and said, “All my wealth and my dominions are yours. Please command me as you desire.”
Bhīṣma, Droṇa and Kṛpa lifted Yudhiṣṭhira from his obeisance and embraced him. They shed tears of happiness to see his opulence and success. From their first hearing that Yudhiṣṭhira was planning the sacrifice they had been overjoyed. Even Dhṛtarāṣṭra was happy, sending word of his approval to Yudhiṣṭhira. After all, the Pāṇḍavas were enhancing the glory of their dynasty, firmly establishing the Kurus’ position as world emperors--a position which had been lost since Pāṇḍu’s demise.
Holding Yudhiṣṭhira by his shoulders, Bhīṣma said, “It is fortunate indeed that we see you today ready to perform the great Rājasūya sacrifice. Surely this is by the Supreme Lord’s grace. You are a fit person to acquire the imperial dignity. Please allow us to be your servants and give to us some post in the sacrifice.”
After consulting with Vyāsadeva, Yudhiṣṭhira asked Bhīṣma and Droṇa to oversee the organization for the sacrifice. Dushashana was put in charge of food distribution, while Aśvatthāmā was solicited to look after the Brahmins. Duryodhana was appointed to receive all the gifts that were brought for Yudhiṣṭhira, and Vidura became the master of the treasury. Kṛṣṇa, with a desire to gain their blessings, personally undertook the task of washing the Brahmins’ feet as they arrived.
The sacrificial arena was soon crowded with effulgent ṛṣis chanting hymns from the Sāma Veda. Among the sages assisting the sacrifice were Bharadvāja, Gautama, Asita, Vasiṣṭha, Viśvāmitra, Paraśurāma, Kaśyapa and many others who had descended from the higher regions of the universe. The celestials, seated upon their shining chariots, came in person as the offerings of ghee were poured into the fires with utensils made entirely of gold. Before everyone’s eyes, the gods, headed by Brahmā, Śiva and Indra, took their places in the arena. The gold platforms around the sacrificial arena, being crowded with celestials and ṛṣis, looked as beautiful as the sky studded with innumerable stars.
Nārada Ṛṣi attended the sacrifice and he gazed in wonder at all the personalities in attendance. Amid the thousands of kings he saw Kṛṣṇa shining like the brilliant sun. Nārada marvelled at how the original Supreme Person was present on earth in human form. The ṛṣi knew that Kṛṣṇa must be working out some divine plan.
After many days, Yudhiṣṭhira was crowned as emperor. On the final day of the sacrifice, the Brahmins prepared the juice of the soma plant to offer to the great personalities in attendance. First they would be worshipped with due ritual, then invited to partake of the divine beverage. Bhīṣma said to Yudhiṣṭhira, “You should now select the most important person at this assembly and worship him with arghya. The guru, the priest, the relative, the snataka, the friend and the king--these six all deserve this worship. Therefore worship all these kings and Brahmins, starting with he whom you consider foremost.”
Yudhiṣṭhira asked his counselors who they felt was fit to receive the worship. There was some uncertainty. Some suggested Brahmā, while others Śiva and some Vyāsadeva. Yudhiṣṭhira then asked Bhīṣma, “O Kuru chief, who do you consider to be the best of all those present here today? Who should receive the first worship, the agra-pūjā?”
Bhīṣma replied, “As the sun shines among all luminous objects, so Kṛṣṇa shines among all kings. He is without doubt the most worthy of the first offering.”
Yudhiṣṭhira agreed fully, as did Sahadeva, who, on Bhīṣma’s command, stood up and announced to the assembly, “Emperor Yudhiṣṭhira would like to offer the agra-pūjā to Kṛṣṇa. Even though the principal gods are present, they are all subordinate to Kṛṣṇa. He is the ultimate goal of all yogīs and ascetics who aim for self-realization. But what need is there for me to speak of His glories? All you exalted personalities are well aware of Kṛṣṇa’s position. Indeed, Kṛṣṇa is the Supersoul of all. Therefore, by satisfying Him we will satisfy all created beings.”
Sahadeva continued to glorify Kṛṣṇa for several more minutes. When he stopped speaking, the ṛṣis, celestials and assembled kings resoundingly approved.
Seeing his decision confirmed by the Brahmins and gods, Yudhiṣṭhira began to worship Kṛṣṇa with tears in his eyes. Showers of flowers fell from the sky as he offered Him the arghya and the soma-rasa. Everyone cheered and stood in respect as Kṛṣṇa was worshipped.
But a few monarchs had not agreed. Śiśupāla in particular was outraged, and he remained seated while the offering was made to Kṛṣṇa. He was seething. Kṛṣṇa was his enemy. Śiśupāla had once been about to marry the beautiful Rukmīṇī, but Kṛṣṇa had kidnapped her on her wedding day and married her Himself. From that day forward, his enmity toward Kṛṣṇa had only increased. This offering of honor was too much to tolerate! He suddenly leapt to his feet and began to roar angrily. “Surely destiny is supreme. Otherwise how could this injustice have occurred? How could those present have been influenced by the words of a foolish boy? I cannot agree with Sahadeva’s statements. There are many personalities here much more worthy of the worship than Kṛṣṇa. The great ṛṣis, the gods and all the earth’s kings are present. Kṛṣṇa is not even a king. He is nothing but the son of a cowherd man. We cannot even ascertain His caste or social position. He seems to care nothing for Vedic injunctions and principles. How then can he be worshipped in this assembly?”
Śiśupāla frowned. His coppery eyes challenged those in the assembly. “Kṛṣṇa is neither the eldest, the wisest nor the most powerful person present. There are many others present who are more qualified than Kṛṣṇa in every way. Yudhiṣṭhira could have worshipped any one of them before selecting Kṛṣṇa.”
Placing his hand on the long sword hanging from his belt, the Chedi king furiously concluded, “We have paid tribute to Yudhiṣṭhira thinking him to be virtuous. That was clearly a mistake. He has insulted us today by worshipping Kṛṣṇa, who most unrighteously had Jarāsandha killed. Now we can see what sort of men are Yudhiṣṭhira and his brothers, as well as Bhīṣma, who has approved of this madness.”
Śiśupāla turned to address Kṛṣṇa. “As for You, Kṛṣṇa, why have You allowed Yourself to be worshipped like this? You are exactly like a dog that has stolen the offerings of ghee meant for a sacrifice and is licking them up in solitude. As a wife is to an impotent man, or a beautiful sight to a blind man, so is this worship to You, who are not even a king.”
Śiśupāla strode toward the gate of the arena, followed by several other kings who were in agreement. Other kings rose in anger upon hearing Śiśupāla’s words. Some left the assembly censuring the Chedi king, while others took up their swords and shields in order to fight with him.
Bhīṣma at once stood up and justified the selection of Kṛṣṇa. He spoke fearlessly, checking Śiśupāla as he walked away. “He who does not approve of the worship of Kṛṣṇa, who is the oldest person in the universe, deserves no respect at all. O King of Chedi, we do not worship Kṛṣṇa out of material motivations. Many times I have heard from those very advanced in knowledge that Kṛṣṇa is the Supreme Person, in whom the universe itself is established. Foolish men like you can never understand this.”
Bhīṣma gave numerous reasons why Kṛṣṇa should be worshipped. He described the many wonderful feats Kṛṣṇa had achieved. Even as a child He had slain the many powerful demons Kaṁsa had sent to kill Him. In the end He had even killed Kaṁsa himself. Once Kṛṣṇa had lifted a great hill with one hand and held it for a full week. Bhīṣma challenged any king to match Kṛṣṇa’s prowess in battle, or any wealthy man to display more riches. No one could show more knowledge or wisdom than Kṛṣṇa. In every way Kṛṣṇa was possessed of superlative opulences.
When Bhīṣma stopped speaking Sahadeva rose and lifted his left foot. He was angry, and his voice boomed, “If there is any man here who feels Kṛṣṇa should not be worshipped, then let him step forward. I shall place my left foot on his head. Who will give me a reply?”
As Sahadeva spoke the sky reverberated with voices crying, “Excellent! Well spoken!” and showers of flowers fell on his head.
Nārada then spoke. “Those men who will not worship Kṛṣṇa should be considered dead even though breathing. They should not even be gazed upon.”
Śiśupāla became even angrier. He turned toward his supporters and shouted, “Here I am ready to lead you. What needs to be considered? Let us stand in battle against the Yadus and the Pāṇḍavas.”
Many kings had been agitated by Śiśupāla’s speech. They now gathered around the Chedi king. Weapons clashed as they were drawn and armor clanked as it was donned. Śiśupāla continued to stir his supporters, “Let us act quickly so that this sacrifice may not be concluded successfully. Everyone should know that we did not agree to Kṛṣṇa being worshipped.”
Yudhiṣṭhira’s supporters also prepared themselves for battle. The assembly of monarchs looked like the ocean rising at the full moon. Yudhiṣṭhira was alarmed to see his sacrifice about to be spoiled, even as it had almost reached its conclusion. He turned anxiously to Bhīṣma and said, “O grandsire, these kings are seized by wrath and seem bent upon battle. What should I do to avoid my sacrifice being spoiled and my subjects being harmed?”
Bhīṣma laughed and replied in a voice which Śiśupāla could hear clearly. “O best of Kurus, have no fear that Śiśupāla can create any disturbance in Kṛṣṇa’s presence. He and his supporters are like a pack of dogs barking at a sleeping lion. Only as long as Madhava does not act can they exhibit their valor. He is the creator and destroyer of all beings in the universe. Śiśupāla has very little intelligence. He will surely take all these kings with him to Death’s abode. It seems that Kṛṣṇa now desires to take back to Himself the power He gave to Śiśupāla. That is why the Chedi king’s intelligence has become so perverse.”
Śiśupāla could not tolerate Bhīṣma’s words and he screamed in response, “O most infamous wretch of your race, are you not afraid to speak such words in front of all these kings? With you as their leader the Kurus are like blind men being led by another blind man. You have simply given us pain by describing the deeds of the powerless cowherd Kṛṣṇa. Arrogant and foolish as you are, it is a wonder that your tongue does not split into a hundred parts.”
Śiśupāla railed on, insulting both Bishma and Kṛṣṇa. In his opinion, the so-called wonderful deeds Bhīṣma had described were nothing. Anyone could have done them. What was so amazing about lifting a small hill for a few days, or killing a few inferior demons. “O wretch, although you pose as virtuous and learned, we can see your real nature. You are sinful and ignorant. Only because you are impotent have you taken your famous vow of celibacy. You deserve to die at the hands of these kings.”
Hearing his noble grandfather insulted so grievously, Bhīma became enraged. His large eyes, resembling lotus petals, expanded even further in anger, and they turned coppery-red. His brow wrinkled into three lines and he ground his teeth. He stood up, appearing like Death preparing to swallow every creature at the end of the yuga. But Bhīṣma caught him by the hand and restrained him. He appeased Bhīma with gentle counsel. Like the ocean unable to transgress its shores, Bhīma felt unable to disobey the Kuru elder. He sat down again, glaring at Śiśupāla.
Śiśupāla laughed. “Release him, Bhīṣma. Let all these kings see him burnt down by my prowess as an insect is destroyed by fire.”
Bhīma again started up, but Bhīṣma stopped him with a glance. Fixing Śiśupāla with his angry eyes, he then began to narrate the Chedi monarch’s history. Śiśupāla had been born with three eyes and four arms. As soon as he took birth he screamed and brayed like an ass. An invisible voice from the heavens prophesied that he would grow up powerful and fearless, but that one day he would be killed by a great hero. When Śiśupāla’s mother had asked the voice who that hero would be, the voice replied that the child’s extra arms and third eye would disappear when he was placed upon the lap of the person who would one day kill him. This came to pass when young Śiśupāla was placed upon Kṛṣṇa’s lap.
Horrified when she realized that Kṛṣṇa would kill her son, Śiśupāla’s mother had begged, “Please grant me a boon, O Kṛṣṇa. Pardon my son for the offenses he may commit against You. I desire his welfare and long life.”
Kṛṣṇa replied, “O blessed lady, even when Śiśupāla deserves to be killed I will forgive him. Indeed, I shall tolerate one hundred offenses from him.”
Bhīṣma concluded, “This wretch is thus destined to be killed by Kṛṣṇa. His time has come. Therefore he roars like this, caring nothing for ourselves or the infallible and unknowable Kṛṣṇa. A man on the verge of death loses his senses and will say anything.”
Śiśupāla again attacked Bhīṣma, delivering another harsh speech. Bhīṣma waited for him to finish and replied calmly, “O Chedi King, cease your rantings. There will never be an end to arguments, for words may always be answered with words. Here is Govinda. Let anyone who opposes Him stand now before Him in battle. Thus you will attain liberation, your soul entering His transcendental body.”
Śiśupāla roared like an enraged lion. Then Kṛṣṇa spoke so that everyone could hear. “This cruel-hearted man is My aunt’s son, yet he always wishes Me and My relatives ill. Once when I was away from Dwārakā he came and set fire to My city. He killed many citizens and took away many more in chains. This wretch even stole saintly Akrūra’s wife.
“On another occasion, cunningly disguising himself, he ravished the princess of Viśāla, who was the intended bride of the Kurusha king. Obviously desiring a speedy death, he even tried to possess the chaste Rukmīṇī. I have tolerated these and numerous other insults at his hands, only because I made a promise to My aunt. But I promised to bear only one hundred insults. That number has now become full. I shall therefore slay Śiśupāla now in your presence.”
Having heard Kṛṣṇa’s words, the kings reproached Śiśupāla, but he merely laughed and said, “O Kṛṣṇa, how do You speak of Rukmīṇī, who was intended for me but whom You stole by slyness and deceit? You cannot call Yourself a man. Do whatever You will! Whether You are angry or friendly, what harm can You do me?”
As Śiśupāla spoke, Kṛṣṇa thought of His discus weapon, the Sudarśana chakra. It immediately appeared in His hand and Kṛṣṇa raised it above His head. Releasing the chakra He said, “I have kept My promise to My aunt. Śiśupāla’s offenses have now exceeded the number specified and now I will kill him.”
The chakra left Kṛṣṇa’s hand and streaked toward Śiśupāla even as he continued his tirade. The king tried desperately to draw his sword to fend off the chakra, but the powerful disc weapon was too swift. It caught him on the neck and immediately severed his head from his body. The mighty king fell like a cliff struck by a thunderbolt. As he dropped to the ground, a fearful effulgence was seen to leave his body and enter into Kṛṣṇa. Rain fell from a cloudless, thundering sky, and the earth trembled. No one spoke. Śiśupāla’s supporters were angry, but dared say nothing.
The ṛṣis, however, were pleased by Kṛṣṇa’s act and praised him for it. Gradually the assembly became peaceful again. Yudhiṣṭhira ordered his brothers to perform Śiśupāla’s funeral ceremony without delay. He then installed Śiśupāla’s son as king of Chedi and the last ceremonies were performed to complete the Rājasūya. Along with Draupadī, Yudhiṣṭhira took the final ritualistic bath in the sacred Yamunā and the sacrifice was over.
After some days the kings departed for their own kingdoms. The Pāṇḍavas accompanied them to the outskirts of Indraprastha, then bid them farewell. Yudhiṣṭhira begged Kṛṣṇa to stay longer, however, and He consented, although He sent His party back to Dwārakā, while He and His queens remained behind.
During His stay in Indraprastha, Kṛṣṇa was personally served by Draupadī and He developed much affection for the Pāṇḍava queen. One day when she had served Him some fruits, He began paring them with a knife. Suddenly the knife slipped and He nicked His finger. Blood flowed from the cut and seeing this, Draupadī immediately tore a piece from her fine sari and handed it to Him to bandage His finger. Taking the cloth Kṛṣṇa smiled and said, “O gentle lady, I will surely repay this gift of your sari.” Draupadī looked down modestly and thanked Kṛṣṇa, who wrapped His finger with the strip of silk. He then stood up and left the room.
Duryodhana’s Envy
Duryodhana had also decided to stay on for a while in Indraprastha with Śakuni. The prince burned from envy of the Pāṇḍavas’ success. They had far exceeded him in their power and influence. Duryodhana could not stand the fact that Yudhiṣṭhira was now the emperor of the world, a position he felt should belong to him. He gazed with astonishment at the unlimited wealth piled in Yudhiṣṭhira’s treasury. The Kaurava had never seen such opulence.
Duryodhana was especially intrigued by the Mayasabha, and he wanted to take a closer look. Thus he and Śakuni examined the hall. The Kaurava saw celestial designs which he had never seen before anywhere else. He was amazed by the workmanship and splendor of the palace. It was as if he had gone to the heavenly planets. Bright gems sparkled on all sides of the spacious hall, and Duryodhana could feel a cool breeze which carried a mixture of celestial fragrances. Ivory and gold seats stood by the side of lotus-filled lakes. The walls were inlaid with exquisite carvings depicting the gods and their consorts.
Duryodhana slowly made his way through the hall, his many golden ornaments jangling together as he walked. As he saw Maya’s intricate and wonderful workmanship he became even more jealous. He snapped angrily at the palace servants walking in front of him. With his golden-helmeted head held high, he walked casually, trying not to show any signs of being impressed.
Gradually he came to the large crystal pond at the center of the palace. The water was perfectly clear and still. At first glance it appeared to be a continuation of the marble floor leading up to it, and Duryodhana made that mistake. Fully clothed and with his eyes wide open he fell straight into the water. The Pāṇḍavas were standing on a golden balcony above the pond. Seeing Duryodhana falling in with his arms and legs akimbo, Bhīma laughed aloud. Many of Kṛṣṇa’s queens were also present and they too laughed.
The Kaurava prince hauled himself out of the lake, helped by Śakuni. He did not even look at the Pāṇḍavas or Kṛṣṇa and His queens. Their laughter was unbearable. Yudhiṣṭhira saw Duryodhana’s embarrassment and told his brothers not to laugh. Kṛṣṇa smiled but said nothing as Yudhiṣṭhira arranged for dry clothes to be brought and offered to the angry prince. Duryodhana quickly put them on and continued his tour, trying hard to conceal his feelings. Everything was intolerable to him--the magnificence of the palace, the incomparable beauty of the queens who moved about within it, and particularly Draupadī. Duryodhana was still burning from his failure to win the Pañchāla princess. She was a jewel among women. She too had laughed when he had fallen into the lake. This was agony. Suddenly he again found himself a victim of the deceptive designs of the palace; he walked into an apparently open door, then avoided another because he thought it was closed when it was actually open. The palace attendants were struggling to restrain their laughter. Humiliated and angry, the prince stormed out.
Yudhiṣṭhira felt sorry to see Duryodhana’s pain. He tried to console him in various ways, but Duryodhana just laughed. He bade the Pāṇḍavas farewell and left for Hastināpura followed by his large retinue, his mind bent upon revenge.
Then Kṛṣṇa also decided to return home. As He was departing He spoke affectionately to Yudhiṣṭhira. “O King, cherish all your subjects with ceaseless vigilance and patience. As the cloud is to all creatures, or the large tree to the birds, so should you become the refuge to your dependents.”
After Kṛṣṇa’s departure the Pāṇḍavas approached Vyāsadeva, who had not yet left. Yudhiṣṭhira asked him if the sacrifice had been successful. The ṛṣi replied, “O Kuru child, this sacrifice will yield great results for thirteen years. You shall be the undisputed emperor of this wide earth, but at the end of that period you will be the cause of a war which will rid the world of kṣatriyas.”
Yudhiṣṭhira was alarmed. Seeing his expression, Vyāsadeva said, “Do not be aggrieved. No one can overcome the influence of time. Everything is arranged by the Supreme for the ultimate good of all. This war will be Duryodhana’s fault, not yours. I shall now go to the mountains, but you will see me again in times of need.”
The ṛṣi then stood up and left, surrounded by all the other sages. When they were gone Yudhiṣṭhira spoke to his brothers. “The sage’s words cannot prove false, but I do not wish to be the cause of suffering in the world. From this day on I shall not speak a harsh word to anyone. I shall always practice virtue and shall see no difference between my own sons and those of others, and I shall follow my elders’ commands without the least hesitation. In this way I shall avoid disagreements, for they are the cause of war.”
Yudhiṣṭhira continued to think about Vyāsadeva’s words. It seemed that the Lord’s plan was unfolding. Although the Pāṇḍavas had asserted their rulership over the world, it was still a fact that many impious kings were exploiting the earth’s resources. Yudhiṣṭhira saw at the sacrifice that many had supported Śiśupāla against Kṛṣṇa, although they were afraid to oppose Him openly. Who knew what evil schemes Duryodhana and his brothers would dream up? All of this was no doubt Kṛṣṇa’s arrangement to rid the world of ungodly elements. Yudhiṣṭhira remained immersed in thought of Kṛṣṇa and His mysterious plans.
* * *
As he made his way back to Hastināpura, Duryodhana sat brooding and miserable in his chariot. Śakuni asked, “What ails you, O King? Why are your sighing again and again?”
The prince looked distractedly at Śakuni. “O Uncle, I am filled with jealousy to see the world under the Pāṇḍavas’ sway. Having witnessed their astounding sacrifice and seeing them shining like gods in heaven, my heart burns day and night. Indeed I am drying up like a shallow pool in the summer sun.”
Duryodhana gazed out of his chariot at the rolling countryside with its well-tilled fields and blossoming orchards. Groups of villagers stood and watched as the royal procession moved along the road. The prince continued, “When Kṛṣṇa killed Śiśupāla no kings dared to speak. They were all awed by the Pāṇḍavas’ might, or else how could they have tolerated such an injustice?”
Duryodhana wrung his hands. “I cannot tolerate it. I shall therefore enter fire, drown myself or swallow poison. What man who possesses any prowess at all can bear to see his enemies prosper? How can I ever equal their power and opulence? Who can help me achieve such influence? Fate is supreme and men’s exertions useless. All my efforts to destroy the Pāṇḍavas have failed. Instead, they flourish like lotuses in a lake. Therefore I should die! Know that I am in the grip of grief, O Uncle, and please inform my father.”
Śakuni moved closer to his nephew. “O Duryodhana, do not envy the Pāṇḍavas. They are receiving what is rightfully theirs, due to their own deeds. They have their half of the kingdom, and with Kṛṣṇa’s help and Drupada’s alliance they have grown rich. What is there to be sorry about?”
The Gandhara ruler smiled as he spoke. His eyes narrowed slightly and he fingered his jeweled rings. “Your cousins have conquered the world and now possess limitless wealth. Why do you grieve? This wealth can now become yours. You said there are none to help you, but I do not agree. You have one hundred brothers, the greatly powerful Droṇa, Karṇa and the invincible chariot-warrior, Kṛpa. And my brothers, along with the mighty Somadatta, stand ready at your command. Take the earth and rule it without a rival.”
Duryodhana’s eyes widened. He sat up straight on the leather upholstered seat. Perhaps his uncle was right. The Kauravas’ strength was hard to rival. Droṇa, Bhīṣma, Kṛpa, Karṇa--who could face these men when they stood together in battle? Duryodhana spoke eagerly, “O King, if you think it wise, then I shall conquer the Pāṇḍavas. This whole world shall be mine, along with the magnificent Mayasabha.”
Śakuni slowly shook his head. He played with the set of dice he carried with him everywhere. “Do not be rash, O King. There are many ways to overcome an enemy apart from battle. We cannot conquer in battle the Pāṇḍavas, especially when they are united with Kṛṣṇa. Not even Indra with all the celestials could overpower them. I was thinking of another way by which they can be defeated.”
Śakuni suggested that they challenge Yudhiṣṭhira to a game of dice. He knew Yudhiṣṭhira was fond of playing, and also that he was not expert. At dice Śakuni had no equal anywhere in the world. “Without a doubt Yudhiṣṭhira will accept your challenge,” Śakuni continued, his arm resting on Duryodhana’s shoulder. “He cannot resist the game, and with a little encouragement, he will surely gamble away all his possessions. Thus I will win for you his entire kingdom and wealth.”
As they entered Hastināpura, Duryodhana suggested that they go at once to Dhṛtarāṣṭra and get his permission for the plan. Arriving before the blind king, Śakuni said, “O great monarch, here is your son Duryodhana. He is pale and emaciated with grief. You should ask him the cause and try to find a remedy.”
Dhṛtarāṣṭra was surprised. “Why are you sad, my son? You have at your disposal everything enjoyable, no less than the gods. Vast wealth, the best of clothes, the finest food, beautiful women--all these await your pleasure. How then have you become depressed?”
Duryodhana at once admitted that he was consumed by jealousy of the Pāṇḍavas. Even though he had wealth, their wealth--his enemy’s wealth--was superior. The Kaurava then described to his father what he had seen in Indraprastha. “During the sacrifice, Yudhiṣṭhira was given so much tribute that it became necessary to turn some of it away. He had been offered millions of elephants, horses, cows and camels. Heaps of gems and golden ornaments were stacked up like mountains. The Pāṇḍava provided thirty servant maids for each of 88,000 snataka Brahmins. He arranged to feed one hundred thousand Brahmins at a time during the sacrifice and when they were fed conches were blown. O Father, I heard those conches sounding all through the sacrifice.”
Duryodhana told the king how he had even seen the gods at the Rājasūya. Samudra, the ocean deity, had personally offered Yudhiṣṭhira celestial ambrosia drawn from the depths of the sea. This beverage is superior even to the soma-rasa that Indra enjoys. It was impossible for Duryodhana to describe to his blind father all that he had seen. As he remembered it, however, Duryodhana’s heart burned with the fire of envy.
Dhṛtarāṣṭra remained silent. Then Śakuni spoke: “O King, I know a means by which your son may win all this wealth for himself. I propose that you invite Yudhiṣṭhira to a game of dice. No one can defeat me at dice. I will win easily. In this way we shall acquire all that Yudhiṣṭhira possesses.”
“Father, please grant us your permission to carry this out. Let us conquer our enemies and enjoy this earth.”
Dhṛtarāṣṭra was uncertain. “Let me consult the wise Vidura. He will only advise us for our own good.”
“Vidura will certainly block our plan,” Duryodhana replied. “And if he does, then I shall take my own life. Then you and Vidura may live here happily. What need do you have for me anyway?”
Dhṛtarāṣṭra was pained. Duryodhana was his most dear son. How could he ever refuse his requests? The king decided he would talk with Vidura and convince him. He then ordered that a palatial hall be constructed for the match. It should have a thousand pillars and a thousand gates. Covering two square miles it should be set with countless gems. When it was complete they could invite the Pāṇḍavas for the game.
Dhṛtarāṣṭra was still uneasy. He knew the evils of gambling. He called for Vidura and said, “I have decided to invite the Pāṇḍavas for a friendly game of dice with my sons. They can gamble a little and thus sport together. I am building a fine hall for their pleasure.”
Vidura frowned. “I do not approve of this, O King. Gambling always brings with it dispute and fighting. You should be careful that no dissension arises between your sons and the Pāṇḍavas, for that may cause destruction.”
Dhṛtarāṣṭra tried to reassure his brother. “When you, me, Bhīṣma and Droṇa are here, what evil can befall us? In any event, destiny is supreme. Whatever has been ordained by the supreme power will come to pass. What can our efforts do to avert it? I have already arranged for this gambling match for my son’s pleasure. Please do not try to change my mind.”
Vidura sighed. “Fate is surely all-powerful, O King, but we nevertheless receive the results of our own acts. We have free will. The supreme power simply reciprocates with our desires. It is the consequences of our acts which are inevitable, not the acts themselves. O lord, consider carefully your motivation in allowing this gambling match.”
Dhṛtarāṣṭra remained silent and Vidura slowly left his chamber with a heavy heart. He could understand that Kali-yuga, the dark age of quarrel and suffering, was beginning. The gambling match would certainly set in motion the events that would lead to the annihilation of the world’s rulers. Vidura remembered the Rājasūya and the kings who had supported Śiśupāla against Kṛṣṇa. He was apprehensive, but he felt helpless. Although the king was not a fool, he was controlled by his covetous and mean-minded son. Vidura’s counsel, although aimed at the good of all, was falling on deaf ears.
* * *
During the coming weeks, as the hall was being built, Dhṛtarāṣṭra reflected on Vidura’s words. He disliked countermanding his brother’s advice, because he knew Vidura never gave faulty counsel. The impending dice match was undoubtedly fraught with danger. If it led to a battle between the Kauravas and the Pāṇḍavas, that would be a disaster.
The king decided to try once more to change his son’s mind. Sitting alone with him in his chamber, he said, “O son of Gāndhārī, there is no need to gamble with your cousins. Vidura does not approve of it and I do not like it either. Gambling inevitably leads to dissension. Everything we now have could be ruined. If you desire wealth equal to that of the Pāṇḍavas, then let us perform a sacrifice similar to theirs. Then the world’s kings will bring you tribute as they did Yudhiṣṭhira. Why must you take Yudhiṣṭhira’s wealth from him? Yudhiṣṭhira is gentle. He will never attack you or cause you pain. Give up your envy and do not grieve. Enjoy life with all the good things you already possess.”
Duryodhana would not accept his father’s advice. He told him about the incidents in the Mayasabha--how the Pāṇḍavas, and especially Draupadī, had laughed at him. As he remembered it again his anger was inflamed. In a choked voice he described the incidents to his father. “Seeing what I thought to be a door, but which was really a solid piece of crystal, I walked straight into it and smashed my head. As I stood with my brains swimming, the twins came up and supported me. Sahadeva led me by the hand, smiling and saying repeatedly, ‘This is the door, O King.’ I felt like dying then and there.”
The Kaurava prince also gave more details about the Pāṇḍavas’ wealth. The Kauravas could never equal that wealth even if they performed one hundred sacrifices. Duryodhana had never even heard of many of the shining gems he had seen at Yudhiṣṭhira’s palace. For weeks an endless line of kings and chieftains arrived at Indraprastha, each bringing huge amounts of tribute in an attempt to excel the others in charity. Seeing all the gold, gems, weapons, animals, clothes, rugs, silks, skins, serving maids, perfumes and incenses, Duryodhana was shocked. When he saw Samudra fetch Varuṇa’s massive golden conch, which Kṛṣṇa then used to bathe Yudhiṣṭhira in the final sacrificial ablution, the Kaurava prince all but lost his senses.
Dhṛtarāṣṭra listened in silence as his son continued. “O Father, the Pāṇḍavas have even spread their dominion to the far northern regions of Harivarṣa where no man can go. The residents of that land gave them hundreds of celestial conches, and I heard them being blown during the sacrifice. The tremendous sound made my hair stand erect. Weaker kings fainted upon hearing the noise.”
Duryodhana’s voice became increasingly urgent as he pleaded with his father. “I cannot live as long as the Pāṇḍavas possess such incomparable opulence. If they are allowed to flourish it will only be a matter of time until they overpower the Kauravas. They are our enemies. It is only right that we should attack them and take their wealth. This is the kṣatriya code. Either I will gain control of the earth or I will die. This gambling match is the safest and surest way to achieve my ends.”
Dhṛtarāṣṭra thought for some moments, then replied, “O son, I hate such enmity, especially when you bear it towards those who are powerful. Such hostility brings about a change of feelings and is thus itself a painful weapon, although not made of steel. Do you realize that what you are suggesting will certainly cause a fearful war?”
Duryodhana paced impatiently in front of his blind father. “What violence is there in a simple dice game? If Yudhiṣṭhira chooses to gamble and lose his wealth, then how can anyone blame us? We have nothing to lose. Śakuni will win every game. O Father, please grant me permission to invite the Pāṇḍavas for this match.”
The king rose from his seat and called for his servants. As they led him away he said, “Your words do not find favor with me, O prince, but do what you will. You will surely repent your rashness later, for deeds fraught with impiety never bring prosperity. I shall ask Vidura to invite the Pāṇḍavas.”
A few days later the king heard that the hall had been completed. He called for Vidura and said, “Please leave at once for Indraprastha and bring Yudhiṣṭhira and his brothers. Invite them for a friendly game of dice with their cousins in our new hall.”
Vidura tried one last time to dissuade the king. “This match will bring about the destruction of our race. Clearly your son wants only the Pāṇḍavas’ wealth and has contrived this means to take it. Dissension among our family members will cause our ruin. O King, stop it now while you have the chance.”
But Dhṛtarāṣṭra had already made up his mind. “O brother, everything lies in the hands of destiny. If destiny so wills it, then we will not be harmed; and if by the course of fate we are to suffer, then what can be done? Everything happens according to Providence. Therefore please go to Indraprastha and return with Kuntī’s invincible sons.”
Vidura looked despairingly at the blind monarch. It was hopeless to try to change his mind. His attachment for Duryodhana was too strong. Even though he could obviously see the results of acquiescing to his son, Dhṛtarāṣṭra still did not refuse him. Fearing the worst, Vidura left the palace and prepared for his journey.
The Dice Game
After the Rājasūya, Indraprastha had become unlimitedly opulent. The roads, streets and lanes were sprinkled daily with perfumed water. Huge white mansions stood along the sides of the wide avenues. Jeweled gates and arches, golden waterpots at their sides, stood at the city’s crossroads. All the citizens were dressed in colorful silks and adorned with garlands and gold ornaments, and they felt secure under the Pāṇḍavas’ rule. Every day, more and more kings were arriving in Indraprastha from other countries, coming to pay tribute.
Yudhiṣṭhira sat in the Mayasabha with his brothers. When they were not engaged in affairs of state, they enjoyed hearing spiritual instructions from the Brahmins. As they were seated one day listening to the ṛṣis recounting ancient Vedic histories, a guard arrived to announce Vidura’s arrival. Yudhiṣṭhira immediately stood up to receive him. He loved Vidura, who had always shown them so much care from childhood. With tears in his eyes Yudhiṣṭhira bowed at his uncle’s feet. As he rose he saw Vidura’s expression and said, “O Khattwa, your mind seems disturbed. Do you come in peace? Is the king well? Are his sons obedient to their old father and the people obedient to his rule?”
Taking his seat close to the Pāṇḍavas, Vidura replied, “The illustrious monarch and his relatives are well. Surrounded by his sons and ministers he reigns like Indra. But he is bent upon his own aggrandizement. The king ordered me to first enquire after your welfare and then to inform you that he has constructed a hall equal to yours. He wishes you to come and see it and to enjoy a game of dice with your cousins.”
Yudhiṣṭhira glanced across at his brothers and then back to Vidura. He was immediately apprehensive. “O Khattwa, if we gamble, we shall probably fight. How can I possibly consent to the king’s proposal? What do you think I should do?”
“Gambling is the root of all misery,” Vidura said. “I tried to dissuade Dhṛtarāṣṭra, but he could not hear my advice. Thus he has sent me here to bring you to Hastināpura. It seems that Duryodhana desires a game in which Śakuni will match his skills with yours. The blind king has granted his permission and he now wishes you to come at once.”
Knowing that it was Dhṛtarāṣṭra who had sent the invitation, Yudhiṣṭhira felt obliged to go. He had vowed never to refuse his elders’ orders. Even though he was now emperor of the world, Dhṛtarāṣṭra was a respectable superior. He said, “I have no desire to gamble, but if I am challenged I will not be able to refuse, because the kṣatriya code is to always accept a challenge. Surely this world moves according to the will of supreme Providence. All-powerful fate deprives us of our reason and we move according to its dictates as if bound by a rope. I will come to Hastināpura on King Dhṛtarāṣṭra’s command.”
Yudhiṣṭhira knew that Śakuni was a gifted dice player. The Gandhara monarch was familiar with every secret of the game. But Yudhiṣṭhira also knew that he could only win if the Lord ordained it. No one moved independently of the Lord’s desire. If the Lord desired that Yudhiṣṭhira lose his wealth, then what could he do? He simply had to accept it as part of a divine scheme meant ultimately for his own good. He ordered his brothers to make themselves ready to travel.
* * *
The party left the following day. With the Brahmins walking before him, Yudhiṣṭhira proceeded on a golden chariot, followed by his brothers. Attired in royal robes and golden ornaments, they entered Dhṛtarāṣṭra’s palace, where they were greeted by the king and his sons, along with Bhīṣma, Droṇa, Karṇa, Kṛpa and the other kings whom Dhṛtarāṣṭra had invited. They were then shown to beautifully furnished rooms where they settled for the evening. After going through their daily physical exercises and their religious rites, they were offered the best of food. Dancers and singers entertained them as they ate. Then, after Brahmins had blessed them, they retired for the night.
The women from Indraprastha entered the ladies’ quarters. All of Dhṛtarāṣṭra’s daughters-in-law were filled with envy to see their beauty and prosperity. After exchanging greetings with the Kaurava women, Draupadī and the other Pāṇḍava queens rested for the night on ivory beds covered with soft mattresses and spread with pure white silk.
In the morning the Pāṇḍavas were brought to the new assembly hall. Amid the sound of drums and other instruments, they took their places on jeweled seats covered with costly rugs. The hall was crowded with kings from many provinces, with Dhṛtarāṣṭra sitting at their head. Duryodhana and Śakuni sat opposite the Pāṇḍavas, both smiling. When Yudhiṣṭhira was settled, the assembly became silent and Śakuni said, “We have all been waiting for you, O King. The hall is full and we are eager to play dice.”
Yudhiṣṭhira answered, “O King, there is no prowess to be found in deceitful dice playing. Indeed, it is bereft of morality. Why then do you wish us to play?”
Śakuni raised his eyebrows. “We do not wish to be deceitful, O Yudhiṣṭhira. It is simply a friendly match. We can fix the stakes so that no one is injured.”
“The great Ṛṣi Devala has intructed me that one should not engage in playing with a professional gamester,” Yudhiṣṭhira replied. “O Śakuni, do not try to take from me the wealth with which I wish to serve the Brahmins. Even enemies should not be vanquished by desperate stakes in deceitful play. And I have no desire to win more wealth by gambling, so why should I play with you?”
Śakuni laughed. “O King, obviously one plays at dice to win something. If you are afraid of me, or if you feel I have dishonest motives, then do not play.”
Yudhiṣṭhira looked up at the Kuru elders. They were all sitting silently. Both Bhīṣma and Vidura sat with their heads down. After Vidura, Bhīṣma had also tried unsuccessfully to dissuade the king from allowing the match, and he had attended it reluctantly. Dhṛtarāṣṭra sat on his splendid throne, listening carefully to the discussion.
Yudhiṣṭhira said, “O Śakuni, when challenged I never refuse. This is my vow. Fate is all-powerful. We are all under the sway of destiny, and whatever is ordained will surely come to pass. With whom can I play in this assembly? Who can stake equally with me?”
Yudhiṣṭhira knew that Śakuni, although more skilled at the game, could not match his wealth and was thus not a suitable opponent for him. But Duryodhana said quickly, “I shall supply gems, gold and other wealth, O King. Let Śakuni cast the dice on my behalf.”
Yudhiṣṭhira raised his eyebrows. It was exactly as he had feared. Obviously this was no friendly match. He raised his objections in a firm voice. “I have never heard that one man plays while another stakes, O Duryodhana. This is not within the rules of the game.”
Yudhiṣṭhira again looked at the elders, but none of them spoke. Duryodhana laughed and repeated that if Yudhiṣṭhira was afraid then he need not play. Śakuni smiled and rolled the dice in his hands. The sound of the ivory dice striking together rose above the silence in the hall. Seeing Dhṛtarāṣṭra’s complicity, Yudhiṣṭhira said, “If it is your desire, Duryodhana, then let the play begin.”
The Pāṇḍava took a priceless string of pearls from his neck. “Here is my stake, O King. With what shall you wager against me?”
Duryodhana replied, “I have wealth counted in the millions and tens of millions but I am not proud of it. I shall equal all that you stake. Throw the dice, Śakuni, and let us see who wins.”
Śakuni called out a number and threw the dice. As the dice came to a stop on the number he had called, he cried out, “See, I have won!”
Yudhiṣṭhira said, “In a game contrived only for my defeat you have won by unfair means, O King. Do you feel happy? Let the game continue. I have many beautiful jars each filled with a thousand gold coins. These shall be my next stake.” Yudhiṣṭhira cast the dice and called his number, but they fell differently. Śakuni again took up the dice. He closed his eyes and held them tight, then called for an eight. The dice rolled across the polished wooden board and came to a stop on eight.
Śakuni pointed to the dice like an excited child. “See, I have won again.” His laughing voice echoed round the hall.
Yudhiṣṭhira remained impassive. He had little chance of defeating Śakuni at the game. The Gandhara king had practically made dice his life and soul. He played always with experts. Backed by Duryodhana’s resources he would also be impossible to overcome at staking. Yudhiṣṭhira said, “I shall stake my sacred, victorious and splendid chariot, equal to one thousand other chariots. It is made of refined gold and covered with tiger skins. Its wheels resound like thunder when it is driven, it is adorned with a thousand bells, and it is drawn by eight steeds as white as moonbeams and swifter than the wind itself.”
It was Śakuni’s turn to cast first again. He called out his number and the dice fell as if at his command. “I win!” His voice mixed with the laughter of Duryodhana and his brothers. They taunted Yudhiṣṭhira, “What will you stake next, O Emperor?”
Yudhiṣṭhira sat surrounded by his brothers. All of them glared at Duryodhana. Arjuna reached over and touched Yudhiṣṭhira’s shoulder. He shook his head slightly as his elder brother turned toward him, but Yudhiṣṭhira said, “I have one hundred thousand serving girls who are all young and richly adorned with costly garments and gold ornaments, and who are all skilled in the sixty-four arts of service, especially dancing and singing. At my command, they wait upon celestials, Brahmins and kings. These shall be my next stake.”
“Consider it matched,” said Duryodhana with a smile. Once again Yudhiṣṭhira failed to throw the number he called, but Śakuni rolled the dice with consummate skill and won the throw. “Ha, I win again!”
On the royal podium Dhṛtarāṣṭra leaned forward and eagerly asked Vidura, “What was the stake? What has been won?” Vidura moved uneasily. He could not tolerate seeing the Pāṇḍavas being robbed by such deceitful means. He watched in pain as Yudhiṣṭhira lost throw after throw. The Pāṇḍava staked thousands of elephants, chariots, celestial horses and countless other draught animals. He put up hundreds of thousands of soldiers with all their weapons and armory. Precious stones, gold and other valuable metals were staked by Yudhiṣṭhira as he became gripped by the fever of the game. All that could be heard was Yudhiṣṭhira calling out the stake, Śakuni crying out, “I have won!” and then the Kauravas’ loud laughter.
Bhīma was seething with anger. From the time that Duryodhana had tried to poison him, he had longed to face the Kaurava prince in an open and fair fight. This kind of devious and cowardly antagonism was unbearable. Without Yudhiṣṭhira’s order, however, he could say or do nothing. Arjuna also longed to string his bow and challenge his guileful cousins to open combat, but he too felt constrained by Yudhiṣṭhira. He could only watch in agony as they were humiliated by the sneering Duryodhana and his brothers.
Vidura could tolerate no more. He stood up suddenly and, within everyone’s hearing, said to Dhṛtarāṣṭra, “O King, listen carefully. I shall say something which will be disagreeable to you as medicine is to a dying man. When the sinful wretch Duryodhana was born and he cried like a jackal, I told you then to reject him. You did not accept my advice, although it was clear he would cause the destruction of our house. Can you not now see that prophesy coming to pass?”
The game stopped. All the kings stared at Vidura. Duryodhana scowled, but his father remained silent. Vidura continued, “Hear the ancient advice of Sukra, the celestial ṛṣi. Those who seek to collect honey from a high place become so absorbed in their aim that they do not see the drop that awaits them. Ascending to dangerous heights they fall and perish. Your son, maddened by gambling, is the collector of honey. Creating hostilities with the powerful Pāṇḍavas, he does not see the fall which awaits him.”
Vidura looked straight at the blind king as he spoke. He reminded him of how the evil king Kaṁsa had been rejected and slain by his own people in order to save their dynasty. Similarly, the Kauravas should reject Duryodhana. The king should order Arjuna to kill him at once. “In this way, O King, purchase these peacocks, the Pāṇḍavas, at the cost of this crow. Do not sink into an ocean of grief for the sake of one crooked family member. There was once a bird that vomited gold. A foolish king obtained this bird and out of greed killed it in order to enjoy the gold more quickly. Thus he destroyed both his present and future happiness. O Dhṛtarāṣṭra, do not imitate that king by persecuting the Pāṇḍavas for the sake of their wealth. Instead, be like the flower-seller who cherishes his trees with affection and thus picks flowers from them continuously.”
Vidura warned the king of the consequences of forming an enmity with the Pāṇḍavas. Not even the celestials could face them in battle. “If the gambling continues there will be war wherein the Kauravas and all their allies will be destroyed. You will be the cause of this war, O King, because you alone have the power to stop your son. Still you remain silent. I can see that you are enjoying your son’s success. A man who follows another’s heart even against his own better judgment sinks into affliction, like a man going to sea in a boat guided by a child. Do not, O King, follow a wretch into the terrible fire that has blazed forth. When Ajātaśatru and his brothers are robbed of their kingdom and become angry, who will be your refuge in that hour of confusion? Why do you seek the Pāṇḍavas’ wealth? You can earn as much as you like without gambling. Win instead these tigers among men who are worth more than any amount of wealth! Send Śakuni back to Gandhara. Do not wage a war that will destroy you to your roots.”
Duryodhana could take no more. He leapt to his feet. Seeing that his father remained silent, he rebuked Vidura harshly. “Now we can see your true nature. Rejecting those who maintain you, you side with the enemy. O Khattwa, there is no greater sin than injuring one’s supporter. How do you not fear this sin? You are shameless, ungrateful and disobedient to your elders. Why do you accuse me? Where is my fault? As water flows downwards, so I act how my nature dictates. I have received my nature from the Supreme. He controls all men’s actions. You may go wherever you please. We cannot shelter enemies or those who are envious of their own protectors. An unchaste wife, however well treated, always forsakes her husband.”
Vidura shook his head in despair. He again addressed Dhṛtarāṣṭra. “O King, tell me honestly what you think of those who reject the advice I have given? Surely a king’s heart is unsteady. They grant protection one moment, then strike with weapons the next.”
Vidura turned toward Duryodhana. “O prince, you consider me foolish, but consider instead him to be a fool who ignores a well-wisher’s advice. There are plenty of sinful men in this world who will speak agreeable words, but one who speaks what is disagreeable but beneficial is rare. Such a man is a king’s true friend who, without considering what is agreeable or not, speaks and acts only according to virtue.”
Duryodhana laughed derisively. “Fie on old Khattwa! What good can he do for us?”
Ignoring Duryodhana’s rebuke, Vidura pointed to the Pāṇḍavas. “Here are five enraged serpents with venom in their eyes. Do not rouse them further. O great King, drink that which is drunk by the honest and shunned by the dishonest: humility. Humility is a bitter, pungent, burning, unintoxicating and revolting medicine, but drink it deeply and regain your sobriety. I bow to you and wish you well. Act swiftly to avert the calamity that has arrived at our door.”
Vidura took his seat near Dhṛtarāṣṭra, but still the blind king remained silent. Duryodhana laughed and turned back to the game. He told Śakuni to continue and the Gandhara king asked Yudhiṣṭhira, “O King, you have lost much wealth. Tell me, do you still have more which you can stake?”
Yudhiṣṭhira replied, “O son of Suvala, I have gold counted in tens of thousands, millions, tens of millions, billions, hundreds of billions and even more. All of this I shall stake here now. Throw again.”
Śakuni smiled and cast the dice. As if charmed, they fell upon whatever number he called. Again and again his voice rose above the silence in the hall. “I have won!” Yudhiṣṭhira played like a man possessed. He seemed intent on losing everything. He staked all of his innumerable cows, horses, goats, sheep and other animals. Having lost his entire wealth, he then staked his kingdom itself. That too was lost and Śakuni said, “It appears that you have lost everything, O King.”
Yudhiṣṭhira’s head hung down and sweat covered his face. Surely it was time to end the game, but something within him impelled him to continue. He thought of Kṛṣṇa. If only He was present, He would certainly save the situation. But Kṛṣṇa was the supreme controller of everything. Perhaps He may still arrange for him to get back all that he had lost. Yet what was there left to stake? Yudhiṣṭhira looked at his brothers.
The hall remained silent as Yudhiṣṭhira replied to Śakuni, “Here is the youthful and fair-complexioned Nakula, adorned with gold and jewels and shining like a celestial. This mighty-armed prince shall be my next stake.”
Moments later Śakuni’s voice was heard again, “Lo, I have won him.”
Yudhiṣṭhira breathed heavily. By his side Bhīma and Arjuna both clenched their fists in silent fury as Yudhiṣṭhira turned toward Sahadeva. “This handsome prince Sahadeva administers justice exactly like Yamarāja and has acquired a reputation for learning in this world. Although he does not deserve to be staked, still I shall play with such a dear object as my stake.”
The dice were rolled and the monotonous voice rang out again, “See, I have won him also.”
Śakuni looked at Yudhiṣṭhira with cunning in his eyes. “It seems that Bhīma and Arjuna are more dear to you than Mādrī’s sons, for they have not yet been staked.”
Yudhiṣṭhira’s eyes turned red with anger. “Fool! Disregarding morality you sinfully try to create disunion among us who are all of one heart.”
Śakuni, not wanting the game to end, replied hastily, “O King, in the excitement of play a gambler may say things which he would never otherwise utter. I bow to you. You are senior to me in every way. Let us now continue.”
Yudhiṣṭhira looked at Arjuna. Surely Kṛṣṇa would not allow His own dear friend to be lost. “He who takes us like a boat to the other shore of battle, who is ever victorious over foes and who is the greatest hero in this world--with that prince as my stake do I now play.”
Duryodhana leaned forward eagerly as Śakuni threw the dice. Karṇa sat silently next to him. He was happy to see his friend winning the game, but he would have preferred a fair fight with the Pāṇḍavas on the battlefield. Dushashana and the other brothers of Duryodhana rubbed their hands in glee as the dice stopped and Śakuni cried, “I have won!”
Śakuni gathered up the dice and looked at Yudhiṣṭhira, who sat downcast and shocked. “We have now won this foremost of bowmen, O King. Stake the powerful Bhīma, the only wealth you have left.”
Yudhiṣṭhira shook his head. There was no turning back. Slowly he replied, “Although he does not deserve to be staked, I now play with this prince, who is our leader, who fights like the thunder-wielder Indra. This illustrious hero with the lion-like neck, arched eyebrows and expansive eyes, who cannot tolerate an insult, whose prowess is unmatched in this world, and who grinds all foes--he is now staked. Roll the dice.”
Bhīma looked at Duryodhana with narrowed eyes. He longed to grasp the sneering prince by the neck, but without Yudhiṣṭhira’s permission he remained still. The dice rolled inexorably onto the number called by Śakuni. Bhīma was lost.
Laughing again, Śakuni said, “O King, you have lost your gold, your jewels, your animals, your kingdom and even your brothers. Is there anything still remaining that you can stake?”
Yudhiṣṭhira looked up at Śakuni. “I alone am left, the eldest of my brothers and beloved by them all. If you win me, then I shall do whatever a slave is obliged to do.”
Śakuni released the dice and called out, “You are won!” He turned to all the kings in the assembly and proudly boasted how he had won the Pāṇḍavas one by one. Then he smiled at Yudhiṣṭhira and said, “You have lost even yourself, O King, an act worthy of a sinful man. When you still have wealth, you should not stake yourself. You still have one stake dear to you. Bet Draupadī, the princess of Pañchāla, and with her win yourself back.”
Yudhiṣṭhira ground his teeth in silent anguish. His thoughts were in turmoil. How could he stake Draupadī? But there was nothing else left. His kingdom was gone and he had cast his brothers and even himself into slavery. That had been a terrible mistake. How had he let himself get so carried away? Now Draupadī was his only chance to turn things round. He had to bet her. What else could he do? What shelter did she now have anyway? All her husbands were lost. Confused and praying fervently to Kṛṣṇa, the Pāṇḍava looked up at the laughing Śakuni.
“I shall now stake she who is neither short nor tall, neither lean nor corpulent, who has bluish-black curly hair and whose eyes resemble the leaves of an autumn lotus. That princess whose fragrance is like a lily and who is as beautiful as the goddess Lakṣmī, who possesses every accomplishment, who is the last to take rest and the first to rise due to caring for us all, and who is such that anyone would desire her--she shall be my final stake.”
When Yudhiṣṭhira said this his brothers were horrified. The Kuru elders loudly called out, “Fie! Fie!” The whole assembly became agitated and the pious kings present there began to grieve with tears flowing from their eyes. Bhīṣma, Droṇa and Kṛpa were all covered in perspiration. Vidura sat sighing like a snake. But Dhṛtarāṣṭra, glad at heart, was unable to conceal his emotions and he asked repeatedly, “Is the stake won?”
Śakuni’s face was flushed with excitement. Once more the dice obeyed his command and he shouted, “She is won! She is won!” Duryodhana and Karṇa laughed and slapped their hands together. Mocking the anguished Yudhiṣṭhira, Śakuni jeeringly repeated again and again, “You still have one stake dear to you. Bet her, O Yudhiṣṭhira,” rolling the dice as he spoke.
Duryodhana turned to Vidura. “Come, O Khattwa. Bring Draupadī, the Pāṇḍavas’ dear wife. Let her be forced to sweep the chambers. Let the unfortunate woman now live with the serving maids.”
Vidura retorted, “O wicked man, you do not see that by such words you are tying a noose around your neck. Do you not realize that being but a deer, you are provoking the anger of so many tigers? You have placed on your head five venomous snakes. Do not agitate them further or you will soon go to Yamarāja’s abode.”
Vidura looked around the assembly as he continued. “Draupadī cannot be considered a slave because Yudhiṣṭhira lost her after losing himself. He was therefore not in a position to stake the princess. Like the bamboo which bears fruit on the point of death, the foolish Duryodhana wins treasures at dice. Completely intoxicated, he does not see the terrors that this game will bring.”
Vidura went before Dhṛtarāṣṭra. “You should check your son now, O King. Only low-class men utter painful words which offend others. Kuntī’s sons never use the kind of harsh speech in which Duryodhana indulges. His behavior is condemned by those who are learned. Stones may float and boats may sink, but this foolish prince will never heed good advice. He does not see that dishonesty is one of the fearful gates to hell through which he is leading his brothers and the entire Kuru race. He will certainly be the cause of our destruction.”
Duryodhana laughed. “Fie on Khattwa,” he sneered. Looking around he saw the chief servant of the palace and he called out to him, “Pratikamin, bring Draupadī here. You have nothing to fear from the Pāṇḍavas. It is only Vidura who raves in fear.”
The Pāṇḍavas sat with their heads bowed. In the presence of Dhṛtarāṣṭra, Bhīṣma and Droṇa, Yudhiṣṭhira remained silent, as they had done. He was stupefied with sorrow. His attachment for gambling had brought about utter ruination. Now, before everyone’s eyes, the chaste Draupadī was about to be humiliated. Yet what could he do? With the sole exception of Vidura, his elders were saying nothing. If they, and especially Dhṛtarāṣṭra, approved of Duryodhana’s acts, then he was helpless. He had never transgressed their orders. To him, his superiors were as good as God. He accepted their commands as coming directly from the Supreme Lord. The terrible events unfolding must somehow be the Lord’s arrangement. Seeing Yudhiṣṭhira sitting silently, his brothers also remained passive, although they yearned to stop Duryodhana from his intention to insult Draupadī.
Draupadī Dragged to the Assembly
The pratikamin went quickly to the ladies’ chambers. Standing before Draupadī, he said in a trembling voice, “O Queen, mad- dened by dice, your husband has lost you to Duryodhana. Therefore come with me to Dhṛtarāṣṭra’s assembly, where you will be engaged in some menial work.”
Draupadī stood up swiftly and dismissed the maid who had been tending her hair. Surprised, she said, “O pratikamin, how can this be true? Who would stake his own wife in a gambling match? Surely the king was intoxicated. Could he find nothing else to stake?”
“When he had already lost all his wealth, including his brothers and even himself, he staked you, O blessed princess.”
Draupadī became angry. “Go back to the hall, pratikamin, and ask that gambler who has lost even himself if he was still my lord when I was staked. When I know the answer to this, I shall go with a sorrowful heart.”
The servant assented to Draupadī’s request and returned to the hall. Seeing him return alone, Duryodhana yelled, “Where now is the Pañchāla princess, foolish man?”
“She has sent me back with a question, O King,” the pratikamin replied. “Draupadī has asked whose lord Yudhiṣṭhira was when he staked her in the game? Did he lose himself first or her?”
Yudhiṣṭhira said nothing. He shook his head from side to side, seeming as if demented or deprived of his reason.
Duryodhana smiled slightly. “Let Draupadī come here and ask her question directly to Yudhiṣṭhira. We shall all hear his reply.”
The pratikamin again left the hall. Tears fell from his eyes as he approached Draupadī’s room for the second time. He stood before the queen unable to speak. She asked him what Yudhiṣṭhira had said in reply. With difficulty the servant said, “O princess, the assembly is summoning you. It seems the destruction of the Kurus is close at hand. When the weak-brained Duryodhana wishes to take you before the assembly, he will surely no longer be able to protect his prosperity.”
Draupadī looked with compassion upon the distressed servant. “He who is the great ordainer of the world has ordained this without doubt. Happiness and misery come in turn to both the wise and the unwise. Morality is said, however, to be the highest object in this world. If we preserve morality, it will pour blessings upon us. Let not that morality now abandon the Kurus. Go back, O suta, and speak these words to the virtuous Kuru elders. I am ready to obey whatever command those moral-minded men may give, for they are conversant with all the precepts of virtue.”
The servant folded his palms and bowed his head. He turned and left the queen’s chamber and went again to the hall. Standing before Dhṛtarāṣṭra, he repeated Draupadī’s words. No one replied. Seeing now Duryodhana’s eagerness and Dhṛtarāṣṭra’s complicity, they all sat with downcast faces. Yudhiṣṭhira then said to the servant, “Go to the bitterly weeping Pāñcālī and tell her that she should appear here, even though she is in seclusion and attired in only a single cloth. This is Duryodhana’s command.”
The Pāṇḍavas looked up at the Kuru elders who, even after hearing Yudhiṣṭhira’s words, all remained silent. The brothers could not determine what to do. They were ready to challenge Duryodhana and his one hundred brothers to a fight, but seeing Yudhiṣṭhira still silent, they did not move. Bhīma, however, could barely contain himself, and Arjuna, breathing like a serpent, seemed to be on fire.
Duryodhana laughed, enjoying every moment of his victory. He again addressed the pratikamin. “Go, O suta, and fetch the princess. She now has Yudhiṣṭhira’s order.”
The servant looked perplexed. He was always obedient to Duryodhana but he feared Draupadī’s anger. He spoke hesitantly, “What shall I say to the queen for a third time?”
Duryodhana snorted angrily. He turned to Dushashana. “O brother, this foolish servant is afraid of Bhīma. Go and bring Draupadī here. What can the Pāṇḍavas do now that they have become dependent on our will?”
Dushashana immediately rose and went straight to Draupadī like a dog entering a lion’s den. He said, “Come, O princess, we have won you honestly. Cast aside your modesty and go before your new master Duryodhana. O beautiful lady, now you must accept the Kauravas as your lords.”
Draupadī stood up, weeping loudly. She covered her pale face with her hands and ran toward Gāndhārī’s chambers. Dushashana roared in anger and ran after her. He grabbed hold of her long, wavy hair and forcibly pulled her along with him. As he dragged Draupadī by her bluish locks, the shameless prince recalled how that same hair had been sprinkled with the sanctified water of the Rājasūya. Ignoring her plaintive cries, he pulled her out into the palace passageways. Draupadī spoke to him in a low voice. “O rude one, O wretch, you should not take me before the assembly. How can I appear there in my present condition, dressed only in a single cloth.”
Dushashana laughed. “It does not matter, O Pāñcālī, whether you are attired in one cloth or naked. We have won you and you must now live among our servant women as best you can.”
The Kaurava then dragged the wailing Draupadī into the assembly hall. She prayed piteously to Kṛṣṇa and Arjuna. Dushashana threw her before Duryodhana, where she fell with her cloth in disarray and her hair dishevelled. The Kuru elders could hardly look at her. Bhīṣma, Droṇa and Vidura were unable to maintain their composure and they wept openly. Dhṛtarāṣṭra asked, “What is happening now? Is the Pañchāla princess here?”
Then Draupadī rose up like a flame and addressed the assembly in an angry voice. “All the persons in this assembly are learned in the scriptures and devoted to sacrifice. Some are my elders and gurus. How can I stand before them in this state? The high-souled son of Dharma is bound by the subtle rules of morality. Only those with clear vision can understand those rules. I am therefore unable to admit even an atom of fault in my husband.”
Draupadī looked toward Dhṛtarāṣṭra, her eyes filled with tears. By his side she saw Bhīṣma, Droṇa and Vidura, their faces torn by anguish. Everyone remained silent as she continued to reprimand them. “How do you all say nothing as this wretch drags me into the hall? Surely then you are all of the same mind. Shame on you! The Kurus’ high morality has been destroyed by this act. Droṇa, Bhīṣma, Khattwa and the king have lost their greatness, for none of them condemn this most vile deed.”
Draupadī fell to the floor of the hall, crying in helplessness and distress. The slender-waisted princess glanced at her enraged husbands. They were incensed to see her in such a state, and her glance inflamed them even more. Even the loss of their kingdom and wealth did not pain them as much as Draupadī’s glance, which was full of modesty and anger.
When Dushashana saw Draupadī look at her husbands, however, he again dragged her toward the Kurus. “Slave, slave,” he shouted. Duryodhana, Karṇa and Śakuni all applauded Dushashana and laughed along with him. Apart from those three, everyone else in the hall was afflicted with sorrow to see the princess treated in this way.
Shaking his head, Bhīṣma fought back tears and said to Draupadī, “O blessed lady, knowing that one who has no wealth of his own cannot stake that belonging to others, but knowing also that wives are always at the command of their husbands, I am unable to answer the point you raised. The ways of morality are subtle. Yudhiṣṭhira can abandon the whole world full of wealth, but he will never sacrifice morality. The Pāṇḍava played with Śakuni even though he knew that no one could defeat him at dice. He has staked and lost both himself and you, O princess. Therefore I am confused upon this matter.”
Bhīṣma looked up at Dhṛtarāṣṭra, but the king remained ever silent. Draupadī spoke again, “Yudhiṣṭhira was summoned to this assembly by the king, and although he does not possess skill at dice, he was made to play with a skillful, wicked and deceitful gambler. How then can he be said to have staked anything voluntarily? He has been deprived of his senses by the contrivances of sinful men acting together. This act lacks all propriety and will be condemned by all wise men. Here in this hall are many leaders of the Bharata race. Let them reflect on my words and answer my question.”
Dushashana began to harshly insult Draupadī. She wept grievously and looked toward her helpless husbands. Bhīma was afflicted beyond all endurance. Finally, giving vent to his anger, he said to Yudhiṣṭhira, “Gamblers have in their houses many loose women but they never stake even those women at dice. They always remain kind toward them. You have staked and lost all of our gems, jewels, gold, armors, animals, weapons and whatever other wealth we possessed, including our very selves. Even at this my anger was not excited. But I consider your gambling with Draupadī abominable. Having obtained us as her husbands, this innocent girl does not deserve to suffer in this way. Only because of you is she now being persecuted by these low, despicable, cruel and mean-minded Kurus. Although you are my lord, I can hardly control my anger toward you.”
Bhīma turned his massive shoulders toward the twins. “I shall burn Yudhiṣṭhira’s hands. Sahadeva, bring fire.”
Arjuna quickly caught hold of his brother. “O Bhīma, do not speak in this way. You have never uttered such words before. Your morality has certainly been destroyed by these cruel foes. Do not fulfill our enemies’ wishes. Practice the highest virtue and remain obedient to your elder brother. Remembering a kṣatriya’s duties, he has played today only on the king’s command and against his own desire. Such an act will surely make him famous.”
Bhīma calmed himself. Checked by Arjuna’s reproach, he felt ashamed. “You are right, O Dhanañjaya. Our brother has surely acted in accordance with duty. Had I not known this, I would long ago have snatched his arms and burnt them in a blazing fire.” Both brothers looked at Yudhiṣṭhira in his distress. They knew he felt obliged by the presence of Dhṛtarāṣṭra and Bhīṣma. If those two elders did not speak out against what was happening, then Yudhiṣṭhira would not object to the proceedings.
Duryodhana’s hearty laughter rang out again. He was relishing his cousins’ discomfort. He was especially enjoying Draupadī’s distress, remembering how she had laughed at him in the Mayasabha.
Draupadī buried her head in her hands and wept. Her husbands glared furiously at the insolent Duryodhana, but still the Kuru elders remained silent.
Finally, Dhṛtarāṣṭra’s son, Vikarṇa, spoke out. “O kings, answer Draupadī’s question. If we do not decide a matter referred to us in the royal assembly, then we shall descend into hell. Dhṛtarāṣṭra, Bhīṣma, Vidura--you are the eldest of the Kurus, yet you do not say anything. Why are Droṇa and Kṛpa silent? Let the kings who have assembled here from all directions leave aside their anger and give Draupadī a reply.”
Vikarṇa looked around the assembly, but still no one spoke. He repeatedly asked that Draupadī’s question be answered. Had she been won or not? Was she now the Kauravas’ slave?
The silence in the great hall was broken only by Draupadī’s sobs. After another agonizing minute had passed, Vikarṇa said, “If no one will respond, then I shall say what I consider just and proper. O best of men, it is said that there are four vices to which kings are prone: hunting, drinking, womanizing and gambling. The man addicted to these vices lives by forsaking virtue. Therefore, that which is performed by one under the sway of any of these sins cannot be taken seriously. Madly under the influence of gambling, and urged on by the sinful Śakuni, Yudhiṣṭhira staked this princess. She belongs to all the Pāṇḍavas and was lost after Yudhiṣṭhira had already lost himself. Nor was Yudhiṣṭhira playing the game willingly. Rather, the king invited him here to oblige him to play an unfair match. Considering all this, I say that Draupadī has not been won.”
As Vikarṇa sat down, the assembly was in an uproar. Practically everyone applauded him and censured Śakuni.
Karṇa at once leapt up and waved his huge arms about to silence the assembly. His angry voice boomed. “O Vikarṇa, I have observed many improper things in this assembly, and your words are an example of one of them. Like fire springing from a log, your anger will simply consume you. All the great personalities among the Kurus are silent. Obviously this means they consider Drupada’s daughter fairly won. You are immature. Therefore you rail in anger even though you do not know the laws of morality and speak like a fool. Yudhiṣṭhira has staked her as a fair bet and lost her.”
Karṇa, like Duryodhana, still remembered his humiliation when Draupadī refused to allow him to compete in her svayaṁvara. The pain of that refusal still rankled. “Well,” he thought, “the proud princess is now getting what she deserves.” He turned to the assembly and argued that there was no sin in bringing Draupadī into the hall in her present state. After all, she had already accepted five husbands. What kind of moral woman was she? In his opinion, she was unchaste. He pointed to Draupadī as he spoke. “For such a woman there is nothing wrong even if she is brought naked into an assembly. Indeed, she now belongs to the Kauravas and must obey our command. O Dushashana, why not take off her robes? And remove also the Pāṇḍavas’ royal dress, too. They are no longer kings.”
Bound by morality, the Pāṇḍavas slowly removed their upper garments and threw them down. They sat silently as Dushashana approached the wailing Draupadī. The Kaurava took hold of the end of her cloth and pulled on it forcefully. Draupadī held her sari tightly in an attempt to protect herself, but it was useless. Her strength was nothing compared to Dushashana’s. She looked again at her five husbands. It was obvious that they could not help her. As Dushashana pulled harder, she looked around the hall like a frightened deer assailed by a lion. There was only one person now who could save her: Kṛṣṇa. The Supreme Personality saw everything and was always her shelter. Draupadī fixed her mind on Kṛṣṇa, threw up her hands and cried, “O Govinda! O Keśava! O beloved of the gopīs and Lord of Vṛndāvana! O Janārdana, You are the destroyer of all affliction. I am sinking into the Kuru ocean. O Lord, O soul of the universe, O creator of the world! Save me who am distressed and losing my senses in this evil assembly!”
From where He was seated in Dwārakā, Kṛṣṇa heard Draupadī’s piteous cries. He expanded Himself by His inconceivable power and went swiftly to Hastināpura. By His mystic potency He immediately entered the assembly hall. Without being seen by anyone He provided Draupadī with an unlimited supply of cloth to cover her. Dushashana pulled and pulled at her sari, and as he did so the princess spun around--but he could not disrobe her. There seemed to be no end to her sari. The astonished prince pulled with even more strength, but Draupadī remained covered. Soon a large heap of cloth lay piled on the floor.
Seeing this wonderful event, all the kings praised Draupadī and censured Dushashana. The prince was exhausted from his futile attempt to undress the Pāṇḍavas’ wife. He sat down, perspiring heavily. Bhīma leapt up and raised his arms. “O kings of the world,” he thundered, “listen to my words! I shall now make a vow unlike any that has been made before. Nor shall such a vow be made in future. If I do not forcefully tear open the breast of this sinful wretch on the battlefield and drink his blood, then may I not obtain the path of my ancestors.”
Hearing Bhīma’s terrible words, the kings applauded him and again censured Dushashana. A clamor arose. Shouts of “Shame, shame!” filled the hall.
Vidura once more brought silence to the hall. He turned to Dhṛtarāṣṭra and Bhīṣma. “O learned men, you do not answer Draupadī’s question and thus in this assembly we persecute religion. A distressed person comes to an assembly of good men like a man feeling the heat of a blazing fire. The assembly should extinguish his fire and cool him with truth and morality. The distressed man asks about his rights according to morality and he is entitled to an answer. O King, Vikarṇa has offered one answer to Draupadī’s question according to his own knowledge and judgment. Now you should also reply.”
Bhīṣma, Droṇa and Kṛpa looked expectantly at Dhṛtarāṣṭra. They were unable to tolerate any more from Duryodhana. Still the blind king maintained his silence. Vidura continued, “One who knows the rules of morality yet sits in an assembly without properly answering a question receives a sinful reaction. Listen as I recount the ancient history of Prahlāda and the son of a ṛṣi named Aṅgirāsha.”
Vidura described how Prahlāda’s son, Virocanā, had once quarreled with a ṛṣi named Sudhanva for the sake of a bride. They had both gone to Prahlāda and asked, “Which of us is superior? Answer us truthfully.”
Prahlāda looked at both of them but said nothing. Sudhanva became angry and said, “If you do not answer or if you answer falsely, then your head will break into a hundred pieces.”
Trembling with fear, Prahlāda then consulted the celestial sage Kaśyapa. “O exalted one, tell me what regions are obtained by one who, being asked a question, does not reply or answers falsely.”
Kaśyapa said, “He who knows but does not answer out of temptation, anger or fear is bound by Varuṇa’s thousand nooses. He who is called as witness but who speaks falsely is similarly punished. After one full year, one of the nooses is loosened. Therefore one should speak the truth as he knows it. If virtue, pierced by sin, goes to an assembly, it is the duty of every man there to remove the dart. If they fail to do so, then they will be pierced by that same dart. In an assembly where a censurable act is not rebuked, every member of that assembly is afflicted by sin. Grief will overcome them all in due course.”
After hearing Kaśyapa’s words, Prahlāda said to his son, “Sudhanva is undoubtedly your superior, as much as his father Aṅgirāsha is mine.”
Sudhanva immediately blessed Prahlāda, “As you have spoken the truth without being moved by affection for your son, may he live for one hundred years.”
Vidura concluded, “Hearing this great instruction about religion, let all those present deliberate on what should be done. Draupadī should be given an answer.”
Still there was silence in the hall. Seeing the Kuru elders saying nothing, and considering this tacit approval of her condition, Karṇa spoke to Dushashana. “Take the servant-woman to the inner apartments.”
Dushashana again grabbed Draupadī’s hair and began to drag the helpless princess, who was trembling and crying piteously to her husbands. Pulling herself free from his grasp, she addressed the assembly in tearful words. “Wait a little, O worst of men. I have not as yet offered my respects to my superiors. Forgive me. It was not my fault as I was forcibly dragged here by this low wretch, this disgrace of the Kurus. The morality of the Kuru house has been lost forever today. Never before have we heard of a married woman being brought in this state before an assembly. She who was never before seen even by the wind or the sun has now been exposed before all men. Indeed I am being publicly persecuted by wicked men.”
Dhṛtarāṣṭra listened with his head bowed as she went on. “What could be more distressing for me than that? Although I am high-born and chaste, the Pāṇḍavas’ wife and Kṛṣṇa’s friend, I am nevertheless dragged into this assembly. Where is the religion of all these kings? O Kauravas, answer me truthfully. Am I, Dharmarāja’s lawful wife, born in the same order to which he belongs, to be considered a servant woman or not? I shall be obedient to your command. O Kurus, this despicable destroyer of Kuru fame is cruelly dragging me. I cannot tolerate it any longer. Tell me what I should do and I will happily obey you.”
Bhīṣma shed tears as Draupadī spoke. He looked at her with compassion and said, “O blessed lady, I have said that the ways of religion are subtle. Even wise men find it hard to understand them. Sometimes what a great and powerful man calls religion is accepted as such, even though it may not normally be so. What a weak man says, no matter how moral it may seem, is generally disregarded. From the importance of the matter you have raised, its intricacy and subtlety, I find myself unable to answer you.”
Bhīṣma stopped and looked around at the silent assembly. Turning back to Draupadī he continued, “It is certain that as the Kurus have become slaves of greed and folly, our race will soon be destroyed. O Pāñcālī, that even under today’s circumstances you would turn to religion shows how worthy you are and adds glory to our house. Your husbands are equally praiseworthy. They do not deviate from virtue in such difficulty. The Kauravas, however, sit with downcast faces. They look as if they are dead. I do not think they are going to answer you. You should ask your question of Yudhiṣṭhira. He alone should say whether or not you have been won.”
Draupadī wept like a female osprey. Still the kings remained silent. They appeared to be afraid of Duryodhana’s power. The Kaurava prince continued to smile, even after hearing Bhīṣma’s words. Rising, he said to Draupadī, “O Pāñcālī, I agree with Bhīṣma. The answer to your question depends upon your husband. Let the illustrious Yudhiṣṭhira, resembling Indra himself and ever devoted to virtue, state whether or not he acted rightly. If he declares himself to have gambled you away falsely, because he was no longer your lord at the time, I shall free you. I will also free his brothers if he makes the same declaration about them. Let Yudhiṣṭhira tell us first, however, that he lost his discrimination. After Yudhiṣṭhira has spoken, O thin-waisted lady, then you should accept either ourselves or the Pāṇḍavas as your lords. All the Kurus here are floating in the sea of your affliction. They are naturally magnanimous. Therefore, looking at your unfortunate husbands, they are unable to answer your question.”
Again the assembly erupted. Many kings applauded Duryodhana’s words. Others cried out, “Alas!” and “Oh!” But each now turned to look at Yudhiṣṭhira, eager to hear what he would reply.
As the hum of voices gradually died down, Bhīma stood suddenly. His voice filled the hall. “If the high-souled Dharmarāja were not our lord and guru, then we would not pardon the Kuru race. But he is the lord of all our religious and ascetic merits. Indeed, he is the lord of our lives. If he considers us won, then we are won. If it were not so then who is there among mortal creatures on this earth who could escape with their life after touching the hair of the Pañchāla princess? Look at my two arms. They are maces of steel. Having come within their grasp, who could escape? Not even Indra himself! Bound by the ties of virtue, and by the reverence due our elder brother--and because I am being repeatedly urged by Arjuna to remain silent--I do nothing. If but once commanded by Yudhiṣṭhira I would, by means of my slaps alone, kill Dhṛtarāṣṭra’s sinful sons as a lion kills a flock of small animals.”
Hearing Bhīma speak, Bhīṣma, Droṇa and Vidura said with alarm, “Be peaceful, O Bhīma. Anything is possible for you.”
Karṇa then jumped up from his seat. “It seems that Khattwa, Bhīṣma and Droṇa are independent,” he exclaimed, his face red with anger. “They always censure their master and never wish for his prosperity. I shall say what is right in this case. The slave, the son and the wife are always dependent. Whatever they possess belongs to their master. O Draupadī, you are the wife of a slave who is now incapable of possessing anything of his own. Go then to the king’s inner quarters and serve his relatives. Select another husband who will not lose you at gambling. Your husbands are all slaves and cannot be your masters any longer. Obviously Yudhiṣṭhira considers that life and manhood are useless, as he has offered Drupada’s daughter as a stake in the presence of this assembly.”
Bhīma glowered at Karṇa. Breathing heavily, it seemed he was about to leap forward at any moment. Still, he remained obedient to Yudhiṣṭhira. Bound by virtue he did nothing. Looking around as if to burn everything with his blazing eyes, he turned to Yudhiṣṭhira and said, “My lord, I cannot become angry at the words of the suta’s son since we are now slaves. O King, could our enemies ever have spoken in this way in my presence if you had not staked this princess?”
Yudhiṣṭhira sat silently, stunned. Duryodhana laughed and said, “Come, O King, tell us the truth. Is Draupadī won or not?”
Reveling in his cousins’ anguish, Duryodhana smiled at Karṇa. To further insult and incite Bhīma, the Kaurava prince then uncovered his right thigh, which resembled the trunk of an elephant, and showed it to Draupadī. “Sit here upon the lap of your new lord, O princess. What have you to do with the Pāṇḍavas now?”
Bhīma could take no more. He exploded. “Hear this, you wretch! If I do not break that thigh in battle, then let me not attain the regions of my ancestors.” Fire was emanating from every part of Bhīma’s body as he spoke, and his heavy chest rose and fell like the ocean.
Vidura jumped up and addressed the assembly. “O kings, observe the danger we are now in from Bhīma. A calamity threatens to overtake our race. This has been sent by destiny. Dhṛtarāṣṭra’s sons have gambled deceitfully. Now they are quarreling over a woman. This kingdom’s prosperity is at an end. Alas! The Kurus have given way to iniquity. This entire assembly is now polluted by sin. O kings, take to heart the precept I shall declare: having first lost himself, Yudhiṣṭhira was unable to lose Pāñcālī. She cannot be considered a slave.”
Duryodhana looked at the agonized Pāṇḍavas. “I am willing to abide by the decision of Bhīma, Arjuna and the twins. Let them declare that Yudhiṣṭhira is no longer their master and I will free Draupadī.”
Arjuna retorted, “Yudhiṣṭhira was certainly our lord and master before he began to play. Having lost himself, let the Kurus decide whose master he is now.”
As Arjuna spoke a jackal suddenly cried out in Dhṛtarāṣṭra’s nearby sacrificial chamber. Asses brayed in response and fearful birds cried in all quarters of the sky. Seized by anxiety, Bhīṣma and Droṇa cried out, “All peace!” Vidura urged the king to do something before total disaster overtook them.
Dhṛtarāṣṭra at last accepted that things had gone too far. He had remained silent long enough. Raising his hand he silenced the assembly, which was in chaos because of the evil omens. The blind king said, “O wicked-minded Duryodhana, O wretch, you are already as good as dead now that you have insulted a wife of the Kuru chiefs in this way, especially the Pāṇḍavas’ wife, Draupadī.”
Dhṛtarāṣṭra knew that they now faced grave danger. If he did not appease the Pāṇḍavas, then united with the invincible Kṛṣṇa, they would wreak a terrible vengeance upon the Kauravas. The king attempted to console Draupadī. “O Pāñcālī, please ask from me any favor you may desire. Chaste and always devoted to virtue, you are the foremost of all my daughters-in-law.”
Draupadī looked up at Dhṛtarāṣṭra, who had said nothing while she was being persecuted. She knew he had relented only out of fear. Still, this was her opportunity to rectify the situation. She bowed before the king and said, “O best of the Bharata race, if you desire to do me good then let Yudhiṣṭhira be freed from slavery. He is the father of my son, Prativindya. Let not people speak of that boy, born and raised as a royal prince, as if he were the son of a slave.”
Dhṛtarāṣṭra replied, “O blessed girl, it shall be so. Ask for another favor. I am not satisfied by giving you only one boon.”
“Then also free Bhīma, Arjuna and the twins, along with their chariots and weapons.”
Dhṛtarāṣṭra again granted the favor without hesitation. Then he asked Draupadī to request a third boon. This time the princess said, “O King, greed destroys virtue. I dare not ask a third favor. Indeed, the scriptures ordain that a kṣatriya woman may ask no more than two boons. My husbands, being freed from slavery, will be able to obtain prosperity by their own virtuous acts.”
Karṇa broke out laughing. “Just see how these great heroes have been saved by a woman. When they were sinking in a boatless ocean of distress, this beautiful princess became the boat of their salvation. I have never heard of such a thing before today.”
Bhīma flared, but again Arjuna checked him. “Desist, brother. Great men never care for the harsh words uttered by inferior men. Even if able to retaliate, they do not take seriously acts of hostility, preferring instead to remember even a little good that their enemies may have done them.”
Bhīma was hardly pacified by Arjuna’s words. He spoke in a low voice to Yudhiṣṭhira. “I shall at once kill all these foes. What need is there for further discussion? O lord, you may then rule the earth without a rival.”
Bhīma repeatedly cast angry glances at the Kauravas, even as a lion looks at a herd of small animals. Arjuna restrained him with appealing looks, placing his hand on his brother’s heaving shoulder. Smoke, sparks and flames issued from Bhīma’s ears, mouth and nostrils as he fought to restrain himself. With his furrowed brows and red eyes he appeared like Yamarāja at the time of universal destruction. Yudhiṣṭhira embraced him and said, “Be peaceful, brother.” He then turned to Dhṛtarāṣṭra, “O King, you are our lord. Command us what we should do now.”
Dhṛtarāṣṭra replied, “Go in peace, Ajātaśatru. You are full of humil-ity and you wait upon your elders. Therefore you are wise. Those who are wise do not remember an enemy’s hostility. Instead, they see only the good in them. Only the worst of men use harsh words in a quarrel, while superior men do not react when provoked. Knowing their own feelings, they can understand the feelings of others. Therefore they always act with compassion, even toward their enemies.”
Dhṛtarāṣṭra then begged Yudhiṣṭhira to forget Duryodhana’s harshness and to try instead to remember whatever kindness the king and his wife Gāndhārī had shown him. He told Yudhiṣṭhira that he had allowed the gambling match in order to examine the strengths and weaknesses of his children and the Pāṇḍavas. The king concluded, “In you, O Yudhiṣṭhira, is virtue, in Bhīma, prowess, in Arjuna, patience, and in the twins there is pure reverence for and service toward superiors. Go then, all of you, and live in peace. Return to your own kingdom. Let there be brotherly love between yourselves and my sons. Be ever fixed in virtue.”
The Pāṇḍavas bowed before the king and then left. They ascended their chariots with Draupadī and started for Indraprastha. The assembly broke up and all the kings retired to the palatial mansions provided for them by Dhṛtarāṣṭra. As they left the hall, some of them praised Yudhiṣṭhira and others Duryodhana. The blind king was led away by Vidura. As he recalled the heinous wrong committed by his sons toward the Pāṇḍavas, and especially toward their wife, he became gripped by fear. Giving them their property could hardly repair the damage that was done by the insult to Draupadī. Bhīma would certainly never forget his vows and, at the first opportunity, would doubtlessly take his revenge. Sighing, the Kuru monarch entered his chambers and began his evening prayers.
(Continued ...)
(My humble salutations to the lotus feet of Brahmasree Krishna Dharma and Bramhasree Manmatha Dutt and I am most grateful to Swamyjis, Philosophic Scholars and Ascetic Org. for the collection of this great and wornderful Epic of the world. )
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